c 







itoatij 0I ^m%%tu^ 




UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



I 




THIS, THEN, IS THE WORLD's BATTLE. 

Seepage 31. 



I 



THE 



WORLD^S BATTLE. 



JAMBS MOOEE, M.D. 






Concurritur : horse momento aut cita 
Mors venit, aut victoria Iseta. — Hor. 



PHILADELPHIA: 
PUBLISHED BY THE AUTHOR. 

1858. 



^'t^^ 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in tlie year 1S58, by 

JAMES MOOEE, M. D., 

In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Eastern District of 
Pennsylvania. 



PHILADELPHIA : 

STEREOTYPED BY GEORGE CHARLES, 

KG. 607 SANSOM STREET. 



> 



TO 

THE REV. ROBERT M. MITCHESON, A.M., 

THE PRESENT EDITION OP 

"THE WORLD'S BATTLE" 

Is SttiitKttl^, 

AS A SINCERE, THOUGH INADEQUATE TOKEN OF ESTEEM FOR HIS 
TALENTS, ZEAL, AND USEFULNESS, AS A PARISH CLERGYMAN, 



ho 

^ BY HIS FKIEND, 

9- THE AUTHOR. 

ci ^ 

^ IN PIEST EDITION 



TO 



FRANCIS GURNEY SMITH, M.D., 

Professor of the Institutes of Medicine in the Medical Department 
Pennsylvania College, 

THIS LITTLE WOEK, 

WITH EVERY SENTIMENT OF ESTEEM AND GRATITUDE, IS 

^ts^ztiMl^ Inztxihz'h, 

BY HIS OBLIGED FRIEND AND FORMER PUPIL, 

THE AUTHOR. 



(3) 



THE WORLD'S BATTLE. 



CHAPTER I. 

** We hring our years to an end as a tale that is told." 

There have been brave men before Agamern- 
men, and heroes as illustrious as those who fought 
and bled around the doomed city, Troy. As 
wise men as Ulysses may have flourished before 
that worthy existed, though his prudence stands 
almost unequaled in Grecian story. The lapse 
of time certainly has brought forth as heroic 
chieftains as Achilles, though few, like him, could 
boast a goddess as his mother. He was mortal 
like others, and, though in the heel only vulner- 
able, stands yet as an example, that men may 
not be too self-confident. In fact, even Hector 
himself, though brave to a fault, could not save 
Ilium from perishing ; and there is neither Greek 
nor Trojan of the Homeric celebrity, that did not 
come off without room for a single boast. Aga- 
memnon was slain by his wife Clytemnestra, on 
his return ; Ulysses was absent from his country 
1* (5) 



6 THE world's battle. 

ten years at Troy, and as many in his wander- 
ings ; being one time detained in the bower of 
Calypso, at length inconsolable for his loss; at 
another shipwrecked, or, worse still, threatened 
with imminent death in the fearful abode of the 
Cyclop Polyphemus ; Ajax, in a fit of madness, 
slaughtered a flock of sheep, thinking he slew the 
Grecians, and then put an end to his own life ; 
Achilles fell by treachery before Troy ; Hector, 
his illustrious enemy, was dragged around its 
walls, which he so bravely defended ; King Pria- 
mus, who, as Virgil says, reigned over so many 
nations of Asia, fell in extreme age, with long 
disused weapons in his hand, and died for his 
country in vain, his head being severed from the 
trunk, and the remains maltreated ignominiously. 
Even the pious JEneas with difficulty escaped 
from his burning city, carrying his aged father, 
Anchises, on his back, leading his infant son, 
Ascanius, by the hand, while his wife, Creusa, 
followed disconsolate behind. This man, so re- 
nowned in the Poet's story, lost his wife, whom 
he loved, and, after many wanderings, tossed 
about by the Vi Superum and the relentless Juno, 
at length settled in the fair fields of Hesperia, to 
enjoy no tranquil repose. What is found in the 
history of Croesus, King of Lydia, that disproved 
the favorite saying of Solon, the wise Athenian 



THE world's battle. T 

—namely, that no one before the end of life may 
be said to be happy ? The elder Cyrus, famous 
for his conquests, died in an expedition against 
the Queen of the Massagetas. The younger 
Cyrus, the son of Darius and Pary satis, fell in 
his expedition against his brother Artaxerxes, 
at the battle of Cunaxa. Xenophon, the leader 
of the Ten Thousand Grecians to their country, 
had sore trials, whose preceptor, the wise Soc- 
rates, died from drinking the juice of hemlock, 
administered by his ungrateful countrymen. The 
renowned leaders of the Athenians, and other 
nations of Greece, almost all felt the uncertainty 
either of popular favor or the fickleness of for- 
tune. Themistocles, Pausanias, Pericles, had 
their peculiar trials. So had the stern Lycurgus, 
Solon, Leonidas, and a host of others. Philip 
of Macedon, and his son Alexander, surnamed 
Great, who wept because he had no other worlds 
to conquer, had each his peculiar woes, living and 
dying. Xerxes, the Persian, was humbled in the 
defeat of his arms, and escaped barely with life 
and a few followers. Nebuchadnezzar, the proud 
king of Babylon, had to consort with the beasts 
of the field, and ate grass like oxen, was washed 
with the dew of heaven, till seven " times'' passed 
over him. Belteshazzar, King of the Chaldeans, 
was slain, his kingdom divided, and given to the 



8 THE world's battle. 

Medes and the Persians. The Egyptians, in their 
elevation and pride of heart, felt the instability 
of earthly grandeur. Pharaoh was lost in the 
Red Sea with all the chariots of Egypt. Even 
Cheops, who built the first Pyramid, and largest, 
to transmit his name to posterity, was not fortu-' 
nate in his hopes — since not a pinch of dust re- 
mains of that ancient king. What of Hannibal, 
the sworn enemy of the Romans? His military 
operations did not save him from a changing for- 
tune. His bravery was of no avail against treach- 
ery. His country, too, brave in vain, fell in 
turn, as if there was inevitable doom in the words 
of old Cato, ^^ Delenda est Carthago,^^ Rome, 
even in her infancy, began under no favorable 
auspices. Romulus did not long triumph as uni- 
versal lord, having slain Remus. She was a 
bloody city in her foundation — bloody under her 
Kings — bloody under her Consuls, Dictators, and 
Emperors. Pompey, defeated on the Plains of 
Pharsalia, afterward miserably perished. Csesar, 
his fortunate rival, fell the victim of a conspiracy 
in the zenith of his fame, and in the Senate House 
of his country. Antony and Augustus were 
neither very fortunate, though the first forgot for 
a while his woes in a woman's witchery, and at 
last died fighting like a hero ; the last found em- 
pire no sinecure, and, though the poets affected 



THE world's battle. 9 

to call him a god, died after no happy life. Ci- 
cero died a violent death, nor was bis life " the 
rose without the thorn." Even the Emperor 
Justinian had his life clouded with domestic mis- 
fortune, and his general, Belisarius, was little 
better. Tracing in the sacred writings the annals 
of the world, from Adam, not one may be said to 
have been exempt from grievous afflictions : IS'oah 
was afflicted ; Abraham severely tried ; Isaac and 
Jacob not without their own share of tribulation. 
The twelve Patriarchs were not exempt from the 
ills of life. Moses was a man to whom the cares 
of state, in the management of a stiff-necked peo- 
ple, left no relaxation, and he died without once 
entering Canaan. Samson, the strongest, and 
Solomon, the wisest of mortals, living and dying, 
had their own share of the misfortunes that at- 
tend humanity. David was full of affliction, and 
Saul with Jonathan fell before the enemy. Dan- 
iel suffered a great deal ; so did almost all the 
Prophets and the Apostles, and early Christians 
passed through a fight of afflictions enough to 
have appalled the stoutest' hearts, and make hu- 
manity shudder at the view. 

One might examine history, ancient and mod- 
ern, and wars, famines, pestilences, earthquakes, 
or other causes, have cut off whole hosts of men 
from the earth ; or, considering them in their in- 



10 THE world's battle. 

dividual capacity, they have had pain or sickness, 
sorrov^ or trial, commingled as so many ingre- 
dients in their cup. This seems to be the con- 
dition of human life. To be thwarted, disap- 
pointed, filled with grief, afflicted, have the 
brightest hopes blasted, the fondest shipwrecked, 
and finally to be left without a prop ! 

" Is all, then, trial ? Are there no joys to 
bloom, no hope to cheer, no voice to comfort ? 
Is the world a desert — life a state of unmitigated 
misery ? You talk to us of the ancients and 
moderns, the men of the olden time of Grecian 
and of Roman story. Perhaps to display your 
partial acquaintance with history, or make peo- 
ple think you can read Thucydides, Herodotus, 
Xenophon, or Livy, Virgil, Cicero, Sallust, and 
Tacitus in the original. Show what you mean 
to say. Impart some lesson. Be practical, if 
prosy, and don't think your Classic and Biblical 
lore will avail in these days of the steam-engine, 
the rail-road, and the electro-magnetic tele- 
graph." 

I was greatly taken aback at these words, for, 
in writing, I must have my own way, or cannot 
get on at all. The objections seemed to come 
from a venerable man, in comely garments, whose 
hairs were white with the frosts of years, and, 
like old Nestor, he had been known among three 



THE world's battle. 11 

generations of articulating men. The old man, 
seeing me disconcerted, continued : *^ Son, I see 
thou art little accustomed to composition, and 
thou art a little confident to think that thy little 
book will be read in this time, when so many 
works of light literature are to be had so enter- 
taining, and so full of delight to the young folks. 
Notwithstanding, there are some books of larger 
size that have as few substantial ideas as thine, 
and, therefore, would not discourage thee, as I 
perceive the intention is good.'' 

I looked up, reassured. I beheld with more 
delight the benignant face of this aged man. 
There was that in the countenance, the bearing, 
the voice and manner, exceedingly noble and im- 
pressive, never to be forgotten. I recognized 
the tall and venerable form of him, *' first in war, 
first in peace, and first in the hearts of his coun- 
trymen," George Washington, the great and 
good. I stood up and made obeisance before 
the Ruler of the People. 

He majestically motioned me to a chair, and 
I sat down with him in a room of the Philadel- 
phia Library. I was greatly abashed. There 
were piled the ponderous tomes of antiquity, 
works only accessible to the learned, with the 
treasures of science, the triumphs of art, the 
discoveries of late days, that have made America 



12 THE world's battle. 

great since the Revolution. I opened up my 
plan. Explained the intention. Spoke of my 
unpretending expectations ; only wished to show 
'* the race was not to the swift, nor the battle to 
the strong ;" that all men have trials of some 
kind, from which none are exempt in the world, 
and added, if my production pointed any one to 
the right source of happiness, and in any degree 
taught struggling minds to strain every nerve in 
the pursuit of virtue, and gain the goal, my ob- 
ject was gained — my end fully answered. I grew 
vfarm as I proceeded. This great Republic, 
said I, grown the admiration of nations, stretch- 
ing her mighty wings, like her emblematic eagle, 
from the Atlantic to the Pacific, wants every aid 
to stem the torrent that overspreads her like a 
flood, and casts the bread of false principles, and 
sows the seeds of ungodliness and corrupt doc- 
trine broadcast upon the waters of her confidence, 
to be seen after many days. I have hoped to be 
one in the army that hurls a proud defiance on 
mere circumstance and chance ; rising still higher 
in intellectual and moral grandeur each time I 
fall, like the giant Anteus, who grew stronger as 
he touched his mother earth. This earth is the 
great moral battle-field, and, if tribulation is the 
lot in this life, fresh courage must be plucked 
from the state beyond the tomb, the region of 



THE world's battle. 13 

immortality. *'Look to the General," said he. 
Knowing he spoke in military phrase, I was at a 
loss, but a voice behind me said : ^' Yes ! look to 
the General, the Captain of our salvation." I 
looked up, and the form of the venerable and ex- 
cellent Bishop White stood before me. In look- 
ing round, the old State-House clock struck 
twelve, and these illustrious worthies vanished 
forever. The last word I recall — we shall meet 
in the spirit land. But now I find the clock 
striking, and my slumbering senses awakening, 
discover me alone in my chamber, with the glim- 
mering light of the nocturnal taper, my manu- 
script before me, and the fleeting moments bear- 
ing me rapidly along the narrow isthmus of time 
that separates from eternity, and divides the old 
year and the new. 



CHAPTER 11. 

"FuU many a gem of purest ray serene 

The dark unfathomed oaves of ocean bear; 
Fun many a flower is born to blush unseen, 
And waste its fragrance on the desert air." 



There is something wonderful in the history 
irle 
2 



of Charles the Twelfth of Sweden. Though a 



14 THE world's battle. 

truly great actor in this world's drama, doubt- 
less the fame of exploits world-renowned would 
never have been his, but from some favorable 
circumstances that aided his ambition. Even 
thus, he was little more than the sport of for- 
tune, and his success stands in contrast with his 
fall at the siege of Frederickshall, evincing the 
uncertainty of all human affairs. This man has 
been underrated as to his piety, he being one of 
those Swedish monarchs who lent efficient aid 
to the Churches of the Swedes in America, and 
favored Wicaco with a friendly letter and contri- 
butions. 

The active life and boundless ambition of the 
First Napoleon, at one time grasping at universal 
empire, at another bound to a barren rock, prove 
how little the chances in life's lottery are to be 
calculated on, and how one unforeseen event may 
dash down the loftiest castles reared by human 
imaginings. Envy itself cannot deny that he 
was a' mighty man, and his name was the talis- 
man by which the Third ISTapoleon, a man infe- 
rior in most respects, became the ruler of a na- 
tion delighting from time immemorial in military 
glory, in a country whose inhabitants Caesar has 
characterized, Galli bellorum gerendorum cu- 
pidissimi sunt. 

From the renown acquired by Arthur, Duke 






THE world's battle. 15 

of Wellington, in whose name the British deemed 
the glory of all former heroes to have set helia- 
cally, and from the honors and titles bestowed 
upon him, the object of profoundest respect by 
Royalty to his latest day, one might imagine he, 
was some exception to the rule of life's vicissi- 
tudes ; but few men encountered so many as he 
whose house the mob assaulted when his popu- 
larity waned on one occasion, and, when regained, 
and the huzzas of the populace extolled him as 
the Anax Andron, the hoary hero pointed to the 
iron shutters of his Piccadillean mansion, as if to 
show his appreciation of popular applause. 
Since the sun first illumined the world, and na- 
tions cultivated the arts of war and of peace, no 
man has gained so universally an honored name 
as George Washington, and no man ever cre- 
ated more richly merited the confidence and high 
appreciation of a great people nobly working out 
independence. But the life of this great man 
was no exception to the rule that man is born to 
trouble, for few had more than he. It is common 
to say, that Washington was the saviour of his 
country, and so to a great extent he was ; but 
American freedom was no more due to the sword 
of this hero, than to the valor of patriotic men, 
ready to lay down their lives at their country's 
bidding. No more can it be said that the bra- 



16 THE world's battle. 

very of the soldiers, any more than the wisdom 
and prowess of the Commander-in-chief, attained 
the desired end. A higher power interposed. 
Providence, so often overlooked, was graciously 
pleased to use the sword of Washington, the 
shrewdness of Franklin, the loyal attachment of 
Lafayette, and the united bravery of a tyrant- 
defying people to work out ends his inscrutable 
wisdom had designed to accomplish before the 
seed was sown that formed the tree for the mast 
of Columbus, or man conceived the bold idea of 
trusting a frail bark to the merciless ocean. The 
plan was laid, so to speak, in the Divine mind. 
The instruments he prepared for the work ; and, 
in this instance, he used the best for his purpose, 
which is not the case always, or he would have 
selected a different set of instruments to work 
out the Reformation. 

The ways of Providence are full of mystery. 
The most adverse things often turn out the best 
for individual or national prosperity. Could any 
one see the relationship between the kite of 
Franklin and the easy access to men of high re- 
nown in the politest court in Europe? What 
relation had scattering some tea in Boston har- 
bor, to crushing tyranny in a country greater 
than the Roman dominion, destined to abound 
in nobler mansions than the palaces of the Cassars ? 



THE world's battle. It 

When Yolta observed the phenomenon of muscu- 
lar contraction in the frog, who could divine that 
such a discovery would lead to the elimination 
of the electric current, that would send the intel- 
ligent thoughts of free-born men across wide con- 
tinents and the pathless deep, forming links of 
amity and brotherhood between remote nations, 
proclaiming "peace on earth and good-will 
toward men'* ? Who would have imagined that 
men could rise into the clouds of heaven — soar 
aloft sublime above great cities — navigate the air 
in safety — disappear amid admiring plaudits of 
spectators, and rising higher than the loftiest 
mountains of our planet, descend at pleasure to 
earth again ? The gases have not been known 
a long time. The oxygen, hydrogen, nitrogen, 
and carbon, so important, and each playing such 
an important part, were unknown at a time not 
remote. The air we breathe is four-fifths nitro- 
gen and one-fifth oxygen. And yet these are 
combined by a mechanical and not a chemical 
union, the nitrogen serving but to dilute the oxy- 
gen. The last would produce arterial stimulation 
and cerebral congestion, and end in arresting the 
functions of animal life ; but, combined or mixed 
with the first, no inconvenience is experienced, 
and life sustained. The water drunk is composed 
of oxygen and hydrogen, in the proportion of 
2* 



18 THE world's battle. 

eight equivalents of the former to one of the 
latter, and this enters largely into the composi- 
tion of the things that are. Carbon, different 
from these, has its own use, very diverse and very 
important ; and in all, divine wisdom is seen, the 
manifestation of an unerring Creator. Hence, if 
in the affairs of life we find tribulations and sor- 
row upon sorrow, and one man living in a low 
station, where a man of inferior talents is in a 
higher; one industrious and worthy man poor, 
while ano.ther improvident and unworthy person 
is rich ; we must draw no hasty conclusions, but 
believe all these things are by appointment, and 
for the best. Therefore, it may be concluded 
that some men who have never been known to 
fame, are as much to be admired as some others 
who are ; individuals who cannot succeed in their 
undertakings, are as worthy of success as those 
who do, and, humanely speaking, as well entitled 
to it. This is all because it is pleasing to the 
Great Architect who has founded the wide uni- 
verse, and directs human affairs tow^ard a definite 
end. But this is so important a matter, and 
withal so little understood, or so little thought on 
in the present day, that I will make it the subject 
of the next chapter, cautioning those to pass it 
over who do not mean to draw the only moral 
renovation to be attained by erring mortals, from 
the doctrines of the Incarnation, 



THE world's battle. 19 



CHAPTER III. 

"Or hear'st thou rather, pure ethereal stream, whose 
fountain none can tell; before the sun, before the heavens 
thou wert : and at the voice of God, as with a mantle, didst 
invest the rising world of waters, dark and deep/^ 

Man has not his reward here. The just live 
by faith. The righteous hath his reward in 
heaven. There remains a rest for the people of 
God — a place eternal in the skies. The hand 
of power cannot reach it ; the tallest ladder of 
ambition cannot scale it ; the subtlest web of 
human philosophy, the most beautifully reticu- 
lated artifices of man cannot approach its blessed 
portals. The land is afar off — far beyond the 
confines of time. Its dominion is endless. In 
the midst of it flows a river — the river of Life. 
No one of mortals ever beheld it, but he who 
was banished by a tyrant's cruelty. It was on a 
Sunday he saw it ; little is said about it, but that 
it is clear as crystal, proceeding from the throne 
of God and of the Lamb. The Sovereign of the 
universe has built a city here, that has founda- 
tions — its splendor is too dazzling to look on. 
There are mansions prepared in this city, in a 
palace where the king makes his abode. These 



20 THE world's battle. 

are called the mansions of the blessed. The poor 
men who in this world have neither houses nor 
lands, who in fact were never able to rise in it, or 
make a show, became so fortunate as to get into 
mansions above, in the house not made with 
hands. Now, what is most surprising is this— ^ 
the men most honored and cherished, and tri- 
umphant in this world, are often in no esteem in 
that. Not that the prosperity here at all inter- 
feres with enjoyment there ; but, somehow or 
other, the most honorable and wealthy men in the 
cities here do not lay up much treasure there, if 
any. The reason is, they do not think it worth 
while. It does not pay. At least it will not in 
the present life. But it often happens with poor 
fellows who are much disappointed or severely 
tried, or broken down with heavy afflictions ; 
they look- up^ and see through a glass darkly, get 
a glimmering of this place as it were, and having 
nothing to offer, they beg an interest in this city 
and in this house above. So the owner of all, 
out of mere pity, gives it to them ; and, while 
they have hardly bread to eat, and the world has 
them in no esteem, gives them a daily allowance 
from his own table of the living bread sent down 
from heaven. This helps them to endure ; and 
after a time he takes them to the celestial city, 



THE world's battle. 21 

" where day without night they feast in his sight, 
and eternity seems as day.'' 

The Creator of all things has a universal plan. 
Part of this he has made known in a book trans- 
lated into all the tongues of civilized nations. It 
is little read or studied in comparison with what 
it should be. Many men do not believe it. 
Many who do, do not live by it. There is a kind 
of reading in yellov/ covers much more to the 
taste of some^ while others are so busy with other 
business, as to have no time for reading it. 
Others are too much engaged in making experi- 
ments in philosophy to study it ; and though 
much read by good men appointed by the Sove- 
reign for the purpose, it takes little or no effect. 
There is another book that all men may peruse. 
It is spread before them ; much use may be made 
of it. It is what is called Nature ; while the other, 
the more valuable, is called Kevelation. The one 
tends to act as an interpreter of the other ; and 
if a man makes the best use of them, with a help 
to be mentioned anon, it is surprising how few 
fundamental mistakes he will make. 

It was indispensable that men should have 
light to guide them through the intricate mazes 
of the present life. They were, given the lights 
of Nature and Revelation. Even the heathen 
had no excuse. The Deity had so written the 



22 THE world's battle. 

characters of his wisdom and beneficence upon 
the works of his hands, that ^Hhe invisible things 
of Him from the creation of the world were 
clearly seen, being understood by the things that 
are made, even His eternal power and Godhead." 
But the ungrateful spirit was prevalent from the 
first. Men knowing the Creator had no sense 
of gratitude ; neglected to trace Him in his 
works, and wandered from Truth. Their foolish 
heart was darkened. In all the land of the East 
they, with scarce an exception, turned to idolatry 
or devil worship ; they changed the glory of the 
incorruptible God into an image made like to 
corruptible man ; the animals, fishes, and rep- 
tiles, the sun, moon, and stars came in for a share 
of homage, and the heart grew utterly corrupt. 
It is not intended to trace idolatry in the various 
nations of the earth, nor yet the scandalous prac- 
tices in connection with some of the mysteries 
of the heathen. Sufiice it to say, the Greeks and 
Romans, the former the most polished, the latter 
the most powerful nation of ancient times, had. 
gods and demigods innumerable, and were sunk 
in a state of moral degradation fearful to con- 
template. Even the chosen people were prone 
to idolatry till after the captivity in Babylon, 
when they never after relapsed into that trans- 
gression. The first chapter of the Epistle to 
the Romans depicts the state of the ancient 



THE WORLD^S BATTLE. 23 

morality at the appearance of Him who, in His 
incarnation, merits, sufferings, example, death, 
resurrection and intercession, is the Foundation 
of Morals. 

It is the province of the theologian to unfold 
such mysteries respecting the adorable Being 
who was born into the world in the reign of 
Augustus, and crucified under Tiberius Caesar, 
as are comprehensible by finite minds. It is the 
duty of the preacher, who declares how the Gos- 
pel of Christ is the ^' power of God unto salva- 
tion, to every one that believeth," to dwell upon 
the vicarious sacrifice by which alone it was 
pleasing to God the Creator to become God the 
Redeemer, and, in the plenitude of his goodness, 
to restore man to forfeited favor, fitting him for 
the companionship of angels, and the light of His 
countenance, in a blessed immortality. My busi- 
ness will be, having cleared away the rubbish, 
which too many, building on, have been ruined, 
to intrude into no one's province, but indicate 
the secure Foundation of Morals ; which the cen- 
sorious may cavil at, the skeptic sneer at, the 
giddy, gay, ungodly, take exception to, and per- 
haps the men of better minds and hearts may say 
was not just needed^ or, if so, not from me, but 
which the man of sincere heart and enlightened 
understanding will find something to profit by — 
and such are the most merciful judges ever. 



24 THE world's battle. 



CHAPTER IV. 

*' 'Tis education forms the tender mind ; 
Just as the twig is bent the tree's inclined/^ 

Every man, arrived at the years of accounta- 
bility, proposes some plan, as well for his busi- 
ness in life as for self-governance. Those who 
have mingled much with men, and know the 
world, will feel the force of the remark. There 
is no one, whatever he may seem, and however 
he may affect indifference, entirely without a de- 
sire to stand well in the estimation of others. 
This sentiment, so fraught with ill effects under 
certain circumstances, is, on the whole, not to be 
repressed, but rather properly directed. Custom, 
fashion, habit, too often set the standard of 
morals ; and many there are who, were it not for 
offending against these, would follow without a 
bridle their inclinations, and rush in the direc- 
tion of their passions, with no compunction of 
conscience whatever. When one has grown to 
man's estate, he sees the different objects around 
him, and scans them with a curious eye. The 
restraint of boyhood is withdrawn. A path, 
pleasing and fall of novelty, unfolds itself before 



THE world's battle. 25 

his dazzled vision. He has a monitor within that 
warns ; but, if no well-directed education has 
guarded him against the temptations in the slip- 
pery paths of youth, he is likely to fall into the 
pitfalls that surround him. But the matter is 
more likely to be compromised ; the plan proposed 
will not answer the ways ordained by the usages 
of society, with which to keep on good terms, a 
show must be made, and, exteriorly, the code of 
society is his code of morality. Fortunately, 
the morals of society, at the present day, are not 
low ; for though the standard of morals is not so 
often recognized as should be, yet enough mo- 
rality is left in the world to keep people at least 
within the bounds of decency and decorum. If 
these things form the foundation of morals, then 
they can only be expected to be better than in 
heathen times by so much as an oblique ray of 
Christianity is better than all the lights of hea- 
thenism. The morals that are founded on the 
example of society only, are next to none at all. 
No one will mistake here, and think the benefits 
of good examples depreciated. No mere man 
has ever been in all respects a fit subject for imi- 
tation, much less a number of men. This mis- 
take lies here, that most persons think they have 
done enough if they keep up appearances, and do 
as they see others do. This has kept many a man 
3 



26 THE world's battle. 

honest, and many a woman virtuous. In a future 
chapter the example fit for imitation will be 
shown ; at present, a few considerations will be 
offered respecting popular education. The fol- 
lowing is an extract from the manuscript of an 
accomplished and judicious lady, who possesses a 
very sound knowledge of the subject : 

^' The present and future influence of women 
is a most serious and important subject, and one 
too little reflected on by parents, and less by 
those upon whose sound virtues this influence 
depends. The question is, for what end was 
woman placed here ? To judge from the gay 
feminine butterflies that flutter in the atmosphere 
of fashion and folly, leaving behind them all the 
evils which they have imbibed from the artificial 
training which parental vanity and folly (if not 
wickedness) can accomplish, by the present system 
of entrusting their daughters to the care of those 
who ' profess' to make accomplished young ladies 
in a given period, it would seem as if women 
were destined to please the eye, amuse the ear, 
and be one of the elegant appendages of the 
salon. If she could be kept alone, for the pur- 
pose, as in an oriental establishment, she would 
not be so injurious; but this gay insect is too 
often most eager to reign in an empire of her 
own, as wife and mother, to say nothing of her 



THE world's BATTLE. 2t 

as a daughter and sister. When once invested 
with this ' Queendom,' then what must be her an- 
noyances and mortifications to discover her utter 
ignorance and unfitness for the duties devolving 
on her in her eagerly sought responsibilities ; 
then she, when too late, awakens to the realities 
of life, regrets the result of her superficial and 
useless education. She must suffer, and not 
alone ; for those whose happiness she has in her 
keeping must be sacrificed, for she has not been 
taught in early life obedience, habits of self- 
control ; and, not having the domestic virtues 
cultivated, is not calculated to make a household 
happy, but will often prove a domestic scourge. 
A saving Providence may be extended over her \ 
but a long series of agonies is gone through, by 
all connected with her, or dependent on her, 
before this ordeal is passed. Were woman edu- 
cated with a right appreciation of her duties and 
mission, she would then be enabled to fulfill her 
legitimate destiny, and prove a blessing to her 
family and an ornament to society, not, as is too 
often the case, a reproach to her sex. The aber- 
rations and misdemeanors of women have a very 
different effect from those of men. Woman is 
the great exemplar and keeper of the social vir- 
tues, and delinquency in one reacts on the whole ; 
for, from her who was last at the Cross and first 



28 THE world's battle. 

at the Tomb, we expect more than from that sex 
that betrayed and crucified : therefore, woman 
should be early taught to realize the moral posi- 
tion which she holds. And in no country is it 
more important to keep her elevated to her 
proper standard than in this ; as here, from 
mothers, are the future legislators and protectors 
of the land to receive their moral training and 
first principles. 

'* Surely, the giddy and thoughtless showy 
girls, now coming forward to take their place 
in society, are not fitted to fulfill such a mission. 
The evil is an increasing and fearful one. Not 
alone for the present generation, but to extend 
far in the future, for on the women of this country 
depends its future weal or woe ; and every true 
woman and faithful parent should bear the fact 
in mind, that their daughters are not to be trained 
for a Circassian market, but to be faithful guard- 
ians of their homes and firesides. The word 
'home' will soon be a misnomer — the French 
have no such word ; let Americans take heed, 
lest with the word the spirit of home will depart. 
Let the education of woman combine all the ac- 
complishments which it may be in the power of 
parents to have her taught, but with the moral 
training, so much more important and necessary 
for her happiness, and those whose well-being 



THE world's battle. 29 

will be entrusted to her. Too often, under the 
present system, the desire for display is so ex- 
cited and stimulated, by the course pursued, that 
the useful is sacrificed to the showy. It is 
urged, by way of extenuation, that the parents 
frequently have wealth, gained by some sudden 
successful speculation, or intense application to 
gain, which creates in them an ambition to give 
their children a fashionable position, which they 
themselves have not nor are fitted for by educa- 
tion ; therefore, the more desirous of using every 
means to make up for the deficiency they feel, 
by giving their offspring into the hands of these 
educational charlatans — the bitter fruits of which 
they have, in utter contempt, disobedience, and 
defiance ! a just retribution, for, if the home influ- 
ence is not of a healthful character, and the social 
virtues cultivated by parents, they must not com- 
plain if children prove rebellious. Piety in 
woman is her crowning grace ; and is that im- 
parted by those now intrusted with the heads 
and hearts of the rising generation ? Look to it, 
American parent ! As you sow, so shall you 
reap ; unfortunately, not you alone, but genera- 
tions yet to come. 

*' Let it be said of American women, ^ Many 
daughters have done virtuously, but thou excel' 
lest them all.' 
3* 



30 THE world's battle. 

" Then our Union is safe, for honest men will 
be reared by true-hearted women, to execute the 
laws and protect the land.'' 



CHAPTER V. 



THE GREAT EXAMPLE. 



Physiologists tell us that the tripod of life are 
the head, heart, and lungs. So spiritual life 
cannot exist without religion, morality, and piety. 
The first brings man back from the paths of folly 
and error's maze to his Maker. The second, like 
the heart, is the centre of the spiritual system. 
The last is the respiratory organ, by which the 
breath of the Almighty is inhaled into the soul, 
and the devout aspiration of the spirit wafted to 
heaven. These might, like faith, hope, and 
charity, be considered as the means by which man 
reaches the portals of eternal life. In the fore- 
going pages several different phases of human 
life have been glanced at, indicating life's trials, 
that the reward of virtue is not upon earth, that 
a Providence ever watchful and kind directs hu- 
man affairs, and that human actions cannot, by 
any conventional usages or inherent excellence, be 



THE world's battle. 31 

such as to commend them to the Great Author 
of Nature, without aid from the Fountain of 
Mercy. Jesus Christ is the great example of 
all morality. All the morals of society, without 
such a foundation to build upon, are no more 
exalted than the systems of Plato and other old 
philosophers. The Redeemer of man is the only 
one that can be taken as a pure example. He 
is the Sun of Righteousness, all others are but 
reflected lights. In him centre all the virtues 
that can make our nature lovely. To him must 
be referred all the actions of the creature ; and 
they are pure or impure, good or evil, as they 
are seen in comparison with His life immaculate, 
and as far surpassing Adamic or angelic purity 
as the finite in perfection is surpassed by the infi- 
nite. This, then, is the World's Battle : to wage 
unceasing war, not only against evil influences 
outwardly, but with the foes within ; to subject 
all the passions and affections, all the desires and 
inclinations to the one rule, and build our hopes 
of victory on the Christian system, as the secure, 
real, true, and sole foundation of morality. Men 
in ancient and in modern times have tried it, but 
other foundation can no man lay but that is laid, 
Christ Jesus. He is the Alpha and Omega. 
All man's hopes of virtuous action and moral 
purity, all his aspirations to the skies, as well 



32 THE world's battle. 

as his efforts to rise above the level of his sinful 
and utterly helpless state, must be by the aid and 
example of Him '^ who came to seek and to save 
that which was lost." This is the Fountain from 
whence flows, as well as the foundation on which 
rests, all the morality which is worth the name. 
For, to suppose any thing else, would be to im- 
agine the example of Christ in vain, His suffer- 
ings purposeless, and his vicarious sacrifice of 
none effect. The doctrine of forgiveness was 
never taught till propounded by the immaculate 
Being whose example was found conformable to 
the precepts He inculcated — whose enemies 
shared the benefits of his intercession, " Father, 
forgive them.'' Compare this with the heathen- 
ism of Cicero, who says, *'that the man who for- 
gives an injury, or will not resent it, is as worthy 
of blame as he who deserts his aged parents." 
Even in our own day, gentlemen (!) of refinement 
and education will accommodate each other with 
what the world calls satisfactioUj which consists 
in staking the life of one against the life of the 
other. How hard it is to forgive an injury — not 
to say a deadly injury, but even a trivial one, an 
insult or so ! How often has it drawn out the 
revolving pistol and the bowie knife, in every 
State in the Union ! How often has the want 
of forgiveness blighted character, and laid do- 



THE world's battle. 33 

mestic hearths desolate ! How many hearts has 
it broken, whose pulsations, through a cold look, 
or a reproachful word, were silent forever ! No 
man can attain to the pitch of moral perfection 
so as to say, " That man has done me a deadly 
and irreparable injury, but I forgive him from 
the bottom of my heart,'' without the aid of 
Christianity, and the spirit of its Author. But 
he is taught to go further. He must ^^pray for 
those who despitefully use and persecute" him. 
Enemies are to be objects of love to the injured 
party. Such is the injunction. How beautiful 
a trait in a man's moral character, to be able to 
follow the example set before him, as freely to 
forgive. I wish we had more of this. This is 
one part of the grand contest we are engaged in, 
to get the mastery over ourselves. Is it an easy 
thing to do ? By no means. It is very difficult, 
and needs aid from above, which, if obtained, 
will change the lion into the lamb ; that is to say, 
it will cleanse the heart from the foul fiend, and 
fill it with the spirit of meekness. 

If a man wants to live chastely in this world, 
he must not follow the examples afforded by 
society. " What," says one, *' do you mean V 
I mean, my dear sir, or madam, that the chastity 
of society is no more the morals taught by Jesus 
Christ than the beautiful glass imitations in the 



84 THE world's battle. 

jeweler's window are the diamonds they repre- 
sent, some of which are priceless, and among 
which one, not the greatest, is, from its rare bril- 
liancy, called the Mountain of Light. 

The pure in heart are few, but they are pro- 
nounced blessed. It is to be hoped there are 
some who are laying restraints upon passion and 
following good ways ; but, if so, it is because they 
follow Christ and not Society, or what commonly 
is called the World. 

The Golden Rule, to do as we would be done 
by, is a Christian precept. Is it not every day 
neglected and trampled upon ? Truly, for all 
the boasts about the advancement of civilization 
and refinement, enlightenment, and that very 
artificial state called ''good breeding, '' there is 
*' precious little'' of this to be seen ; but when the 
different interests of parties come athwart each 
other, most men will follow the course prescribed 
by their own immediate interests. From hence 
arise corruption, bribery, frauds, false pretenses, 
abuse of trusts, forgeries, and such like, at once 
an injury to others and an indelible disgrace to 
the parties offending. Swearing is prohibited, 
even in the most inoffensive form of it. The 
Decalogue forbade it; the Fulfiller of the Law 
said, "Swear not at alL" It certainly is not a 
gentlemanly practice, and, it is to be hoped, will 



.W" 



THE world's battle. 35 

be soon exclusively confined to a class who, from 
the noise and disturbance they make, or the roues 
they get up, have got a new word introduced into 
and naturalized in our tongue, being called Bow- 
dies. The Great Example shows one whose lan- 
guage was as pure as the ideas expressed — whose 
words were full of wisdom as of goodness, so 
that on one occasion ''the people wondered at 
the gracious words that proceeded out of His 
mouth." There is need that a man should use, 
in all things, moderation or temperance, which 
not only means a proper use of beverages, liquors, 
and such like, but that restraint upon all the ap- 
petites, of what kind soever, as is convenient for 
physical, intellectual, and spiritual health. In- 
dulgence is a bad thing in every sense of the 
word. It is bad for the body : it destroys its 
health. It is bad for the mind : it clouds its 
intellect. It is bad for the soul, for it shuts it 
out from the joys of life eternal. This is another 
of our enemies in the World's Battle, and can 
only be vanquished by our own efforts to second 
the gracious influences that the most imperfect 
of us, at times, has vouchsafed him. 

Dissipation, a common evil of these times, 
draws many young persons into the vortex, 
where they, it is to be feared, are likely to be 
swallowed up — being shipwrecked when they 



36 THE world's battle. 



have lost the pilotage of morality and the pearl 
of virtue. The only chance of safety is to leave 
off evil ways, and turn with full purpose of heart 
and contrite tears to the paths of peace. Fond- 
ness for dress and what is called fashions, being 
a conformity to the maxims of the world, is a 
growing evil. At no former period in this coun- 
try has the evil approached such an extravagant 
height as now. It is not a good sign of the 
times. Wealth and national prosperity bring in 
luxury and extravagance ; display and vain show 
— the specious rather than the useful — is the 
aim ; and by these means injury is done perma- 
nently. 

There is good being done, however. Organi- 
zations are formed for mitigating the sorrows of 
mortality. The poor are fed and clothed. Their 
condition ameliorated. Medicine for soul and 
body is procured — ^'a balm for every wound." 
Associations for young men are springing up 
of a praiseworthy character, in which they im- 
prove one another and the society in which they 
move. Institutions are increasing of a charitable 
character, for the benefit of "the poor, the 
maimed, the halt, and the blind." Edifices for 
divine worship are rising in the land, and large 
moneys cheerfully given to spread the Gospel of 
salvation in our own and far distant nations. 



i\ 



THE world's battle. 37 

The morals of the clergy are generally pure in 
our age, and precept and example in sweetest 
harmony. The arts and sciences flourish, with 
agriculture, and all that conduces to the comfort 
of the race ; while education is vastly improved, 
and the physician capable of grappling with the 
most frightful forms of disease. The places of 
amusement are changed vastly for the better, and 
the drama has ceased to raise the blush. A 
better feeling exists toward foreign nations, and 
friendly relations are preserved. The laws are 
founded in justice, and mercifully executed. The 
judge, " a terror to evil doers, and a praise to 
such as do well.'' 

The age is better than the last, and the morals 
of society improved ; but, to urge the onward 
way, to rise above self, to cultivate moral senti- 
ments in view of the Great Example, to curb, re- 
strain, eradicate, annihilate principles of evil and 
follow only the good, the pure, the heaven-born : 
This, this is The World's Battle. 



38 THE WORLD^S BATTLE. 



CHAPTER VL 



THE OBJECTION. 



The reader who has taken the trouble to pe- 
ruse the foregoing pages, will hardly fail to agree 
with most of the sentiments they contain. The 
course pursued was such as most men would 
admit to be consistent with experience ; namely, 
the very uncertain nature of human events, the 
fact that all men are disappointed in their hopes, 
more or less ; and the truism, that the rewards of 
the just are not in the present state but in a fu- 
ture, free from pain and sorrow, as from human 
infirmity. An attempt was made to call attention 
to some of life's changes, and a consideration of 
the example by which the sincere of purpose may 
be led, as a child by the hand, in the way he 
should go. There are not many who could read 
any thing on these matters without some profit, 
for their application is general ; and, however im- 
perfectly put forth, they would make some im- 
pression. The fact that all have "to fight the 
good fight," is the reason why the work is called 
The World's Battle ; and the present chapter is 
called The Objection, because it anticipates the 



THE world's battle. 39 

objection that men have in general to fight against 
the enemies of their peace. The writer has, in 
many different climes, been witness to the various 
interests that rule mankind. It has been his lot 
in life to fight the World's Battle, in many in- 
stances, alone. Within two years of the age 
whose double is the '' threescore years and ten" 
which the inspired volume gives as almost the 
utmost bounds of life, he feels that it is time to 
be aiming after wisdom, and laying up treasure 
where "moth and rust doth not corrupt, and 
where thieves cannot break through nor steal." 
Many may read what is here written, when the 
hand is dust that traced these lines, and the worm 
revels in the bony concavity that now contains 
the brain, the wondrous instrument of the mind 
whose busy thought can range the wide domain 
of the past, survey the passing scene, and pursue 
the winding mazes that lead far into the myste- 
rious future. To a man conscious of this, feeling 
that he has a work to do that must be done in a 
given time or left undone, and that the issue is 
eternal happiness or endless pain, what remains 
but to be up and doing, "to work while it is 
called day" ? The objection that people have, is 
presented under various aspects, suited to age, 
sex, and circumstance ; but the same in all. It is 
intended to trace it in different phases, and to 



40 THE world's battle. 

point out how fatal it is to the best interests of 
human kind. The substance of the matter con- 
sists in a refusal to comply with the terms by 
which a change may be effected in the heart and 
affections of an individual, without which he re- 
mains as he was, utterly unfit for the society of 
the blessed, in the land where nothing unclean can 
find entrance. The objection arises from a carnal 
nature, and is so liard to overcome, that nothing 
but Omnipotence can remove it. 

The young man in the Gospel, who wanted 
to follow the right w^ay, and was so perfect as to 
seem to lack nothing, yet wanted much, as ap- 
peared from the test our Saviour applied. He 
was required to sell all he had and give to the 
poor, to lay up treasure in heaven, and follow 
Jesus. The objection here was in a form very 
often assumed, and that has great influence with 
the most of persons in our day, similarly situated, 
who, when required to fight the World's Battle, 
turn cowards, and, instead of gaining the victory 
by sacrificing self, depart very sorrowful, for, like 
the young nobleman, they are very rich. And 
yet, how uncertain are riches ! While these words 
are being written, the country is but slowly re- 
covering from one of those financial revulsions 
that have broken down great fortunes, suspended 
banks, closed the doors of princely merchants, an- 



THE world's battle. 41 

nihiJated confidence, arrested the wheels of com- 
merce, silenced the hum of industry, and given 
the world to feel that the millions of the wealthy- 
may perish. How little to be depended on is the 
treasure a man lays up here below, let the miser- 
able objects brought low by the loss of the riches 
in which they trusted declare. Out of all the 
splendor of that magnificent establishment, all 
the piles of gold and silver, all the silks of China, 
all the rich shawls of India and Cashmere, with 
the profusion flung into the lap of luxury, scatter- 
ing the perfumes of Arabia with ** barbaric pearl 
and gold,'' how small a proportion was spent in 
charity ! These people had little for to give to the 
noble charities that philanthropy raises for the 
aid of the suffering poor. The Deaf, Dumb, and 
Blind Asylums, the Houses of Industry, the 
Homes for Friendless Children, the Hospitals 
that receive into their friendly shades the sick 
and wounded — all these institutions for the good 
of suffering humanity were little the better for the 
thousands of dollars now lost to the purse-proud 
possessor. The same might be said of the sup- 
port of the Gospel, and the maintenance of the 
servants of Christ who labor for him, and are 
worthy of their hire. If the riches lost had done 
good, if they had been properly used, if they had 
given bread to the hungry instead of ministering 
4* 



42 THE world's battle. 

to vanity, lust, or ambition, how different would 
it be now that they have taken to themselves 
wings to flee away ! These had no time for re- 
ligion. God was not in all their thoughts ; every 
nerve was strained in the service of the god of 
this world, and all their offerings laid on the 
altar of Fashion, as, amid the odors of incense, 
they bowed at her shrine ! These people lived 
for the world. They grew fat. It did not seem 
any pleasure to think of the true riches, of whose 
excellence they may think in the day of adversity ; 
and, not cumbered by the load that once op- 
pressed them, in losing their estates may save 
their souls, which are far more valuable, judging 
by their quality, and the price paid for them. 



CHAPTER VII. 

THE OBJECTION. — PRIDE. 

" Pride, where wit fails, steps in to our defense, 
And fills up all the mighty void of sense." 

Pride cast down mighty angels from heaven. 
The Prince of darkness was once a glorious seraph, 
and exulted in the fruition of the unclouded glo- 



THE WORLD S BATTLE. 43 

ries that surround the throne of the Eternal. The 
consciousness of pride brought forth the acts of 
rebellion for which he was expelled with "the 
myriads of immortal spirits, powers matchless 
but with the Almighty." Partakers of endless 
darkness, banished from the face of God forever, 
and confined in unutterable woe, the chief of the 
rebel host accompli^ed the ruin of our first pa- 
rents, who, in the breach of the Divine command, 
" brought death into the world, and all our woe, 
with loss of Eden." Original sin, in consequence, 
adheres to the nature of man. Man, first made 
in the image of God, became corrupt. His soul 
was tainted with the leprosy of sin ; and, as some 
diseases of the body are continued from the pa- 
rent to the offspring, so the sin of Adam is in- 
herited by his fallen sons. The judgment of man, 
too, is perverted, so that he is prone to choose 
the evil rather than the good; and being sent 
into the world to be educated for heaven, he is 
wont to forget he is but a sojourner, and, instead 
of seeking God as his chief good, to place his 
affections on the things of earth, that "perish in 
the using." This is why so few men care about 
perfecting their moral nature. They cannot tell 
the difference between the toys of this world, and 
the " pearl of great price" ; nor the pleasures of 
spiritual delights, in comparison with the down- 



44 THE world's battle. 

ward tendencies of their appetites. The natural 
man, fallen as he is from God, knows not the 
things of the Spirit, whose gracious influences 
would lead him into the path of safety. He 
thinks spiritual things foolish ; unable to learn 
them, for they are spiritually discerned. Man is 
morally blind from his birth. He is in open, or 
implied, opposition to God. ^e cannot be other- 
wise, for he is born in sin, and his Maker is infi- 
nitely pure. I 

Besides the fallen and corrupt nature in man, 
the original Tempter is permitted, by inscrutable 
wisdom, to present fierce temptations, whereby 
he becomes a wanderer from the true path. He 
is filled with pride, has a high notion of himself, 
and vainly thinks to clear himself in His presence 
who is so strict in purity, and exalted in holiness, 
that '' He chargeth his angels with folly.'' This 
pride is a sad enemy to man. It is deeply rooted, 
and can hardly ever be taken away. It seems to 
be eradicated, but, like some malignant diseases, 
returns after extirpation. What man has to do 
with pride is strange. A beggar might be proud 
of his bag, or a thief of his plunder, or a soldier 
that, when his fallen foe asked his life, he struck 
off his head ! That man should be proud is a 
curious thing. The fallen spirit who tempted 
him might be proud, for he was endowed with 



THE world's battle. 45 

majesty and beauty, strength and immortality ; 
he might be proud of his cunning, too, though it 
does him little credit. But man, his dupe, for 
him to be proud is the height of absurdity. And 
yet pride rules us all. It cleaves to us nearly to 
the last, and hardly departs from saint or sinner 
till the icy hand of death touches him with the 
last chill. The devil laughs at our folly, while he 
adds fuel to the fire that inflames our pride. He 
throws in an incense called flattery ; he stupefies us 
with its fumes ; and, as if not dark enough by 
nature, blinds us. You see that fat, sleek, jolly 
looking man of middle age, just passing. Mark 
his self-complacency. The treasures of the world 
are his ; the costly luxuries of the gorgeous East, 
and the productions of other climes fill his costly 
house. He hardly knows his riches. He has 
large funded property, large shares in railway 
stocks, broad acres in east and west. He is a 
liberal, generous, kind man ; few are better; but 
he is proud ! Pride blinds his eyes. 

There goes a man who has not a dollar. He 
never had one, at least not to spare ; yet he gave 
many a one to the poor, and has been known to 
give away his dinner. He is a ripe scholar, an 
excellent critic, a true patriot, and a good man. 
He would die rather than do a mean action. But 
his failing is pride, pride in his rectitude. The 



46 THE world's battle. 

devil can't do much with him, however, for he 
has but the one fault, and knows it, while, with a 
true fervor of devotion, he prays and watches 
against it. Observe that beautiful young lady. 
She looks rather too fair for mortal. There is 
something almost supernatural in her loveliness. 
The poet or the painter would find her a study. 
She is graceful as lovely, elegant as costly in at- 
tire. She is as accomplished as beautiful, and 
her mind rather superior to her person. How 
amiable her temper, how full of kindness her dis- 
position ! Her innocence is spotless. What is 
she, then ? An angel ? dea certe ! Alas ! 
no. She is the delight of a large and fashionable 
circle. Parents doat on her. The world smiles 
on her. The poor bless her. She is not vain. 
See, her adornment is simple. There is nothing 
more distasteful to her than flattery. It ex- 
cludes from her presence. But, the man of her 
choice, he whom she loves in exchange for an un- 
alterable affection, by a mutual misunderstanding, 
is banished, and her most precious affections are 
sacrificed to her pride 



THE world's battle. 47 

CHAPTER YIIL 

THE OBJECTION. — PRIDE, CONTINUED. 

Pride finds its way into families, makes slaves 
of the parents, and leads the children captive. 
All is made to bend to appearances. Semblances 
must be kept up. No one must be more fashion- 
able ; and, to cope with a neighbor having twice 
the income, an effort must be made, such as dis- 
tended the frog. It is not what is right, but 
what people will say, that is cared about. It 
would be a sad thing not to look as elegant at 
the ball, or as splendid at the opera, as Mrs. 
Moonshine, or make as good a figure at church, 
where the Rev. Mr. Preachfine edifies the con- 
gregation, whose smooth oratory tickles the fancy 
of Miss Amelia Newnovel or Madam Tittletat, 
without at all disturbing the easy nap of the 
godly Mr. Dwellatease, or the golden dreams 
of his friend Centpercent. Pride ! oh. Pride ! 
Pride ! Thou verily overthrowest the mightiest 
mortals. The monarch of Babylon fell by thee. 
By thee the Jewish legislator fell at the waters 
of Meram. Good Hezekiah fell by thy power, 
on displaying the riches of the kingdom. David 



48 THE world's battle. 

numbered the people, and trusted to his power 
instead of his God, and by thee he fell. Even 
the holy St. Paul had to contend against thy 
potent sway over human nature, and found he 
could not depend on himself, as did St. Peter in 
confidence too soon vanquished. 

The pride that blinded the Jews, and prevented 
their beholding the moral excellence of the Sa- 
viour's teaching, and his eternal power and God- 
head, caused them to feel ashamed at the humility 
that clothed him in the garb of a servant, while 
their wicked hearts made choice of a murderer, 
and their voice cried, *' Not this man, but Barab- 
bas !" Pride rules now, as then. To go to church 
once a week is respectable in our day, for Chris- 
tianity is the religion of the land. But the meek- 
ness and humility of Jesus are as far from his 
professed followers, in the great majority of in- 
stances, as from the Jews, who required a sigUj 
and the Greeks, who sought after a wisdom that 
regarded the story of the Cross as an absurdity, 
and justification by faith in a man that w^as dead 
as the ravings of a madman. They were like 
Naaman, who, being told by the prophet to go 
and wash three times in Jordan, in order to be 
cured of his leprosy, was in a rage, and said, 
"Are not Abana and Pharpar, rivers of Damas- 
cus, better than all the waters of Israel ? Why 





EDIFICES FOR DIVINE WORSHIP ARE RISING IN THE LAND. 

See page 36. 



THE world's battle. 49 

not go and wash in them and be clean ?'' The 
Greeks never could bring themselves down to sit 
at the feet of Jesus. They listened to Socrates 
and Plato, and gave ear to the hoggish Epicurus ; 
but the teachings of the Gospel had less easy 
access ; and while as profound a reasoner as 
themselves declared the means of salvation as 
through Christ, in hearing of their sages, they 
said, '* What will this babbler say ?" 

So at present, the pride of man turns to infi- 
delity. He grows self-sufficient, and, like Em- 
pedocles, who threw himself into the flames of 
^tna, in order to be considered a god, so man, 
in the plenitude of pride and power, would scorn 
his fellows, and try to be at least a demi-god. 
Few of the meek now would bear an injury with- 
out resenting it. Few of the humble, who call 
themselves *'the chief of sinners," would let any 
one else do it ; and sanctity has been made the 
cloak in whose ample folds the adulterer, thief, 
and swindler have found concealment. Pride, 
too, has gone into the pulpit, has even peeped 
out of the sleeve of the clergy, and been seen to 
flit over the sermon delivered, or hide itself 
behind the priestly robes. It has appeared in 
rich congregations, when the collection has been 
taken up, or when the paper was handed round that 
gave scope for ostentation. It delights to bor- 
5 



50 THE world's battle. 

row the garments of humility, and has been chased 
from Dorcas societies. It has even mingled with 
the devotions of the saints, and hid itself in the 
very language of supplication. If a man is hon- 
ored or appreciated, if he gets a compliment ever 
so little, he feels 'proud; and this is not thought 
a sin, for at public meetings, in speeches, men 
are not ashamed to acknowledge it. There is, 
indeed, a proper pride, a pride of worth — one 
that has its basis in humility and self-abasement, 
that rejoices not in strength, riches, wisdom, 
beauty, or any thing earthly, but in the things 
that are spiritual, and founded on faith in Christ. 
Truth, virtue, piety, faith, hope, love, are things 
to be proud of ; but these not because we may 
think we possess them, but on account of the 
victory they give us here, and the glory hereafter. 
Pride, that has its source in worldly vanity, ^^ goes 
before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a 
fall.'' 

This is the objection to Christ. We cannot have 
Christ and the world at the same time. We 
cannot at once serve God and Mammon. This 
keeps people back. They do not strive to con- 
quer pride. It grows stronger and stronger. It 
resists grace, quenches the Spirit, and puts off re- 
ligion till a dying hour, because it is not fashion- 
able to be religious, or to talk of piety, or to be 



p 



THE world's battle. 51 

concerned about saving the soul. And so the 
devil deludes, lulls conscience by the cunningly- 
administered opiates of false security, and leads 
the trembling spirit to the beetling cliff, whose 
fearful apex frowns over the dark waves of the 
boundless sea — Eternity. 

Hark ! a sound is borne on the breeze — the 
shouts of warriors fill the caverns of despair with 
resounding echoes. A resolute band of heroes 
rush on the foe, and pursue the flying ranks that 
dread the swords of the mighty 'neath the banner 
of the Cross. Awake, sleeper ! arouse and 
join the conquering hosts in the World's Battle. 



52 THE world's battle. 

CHAPTER IX. 

THE NATURE AND IMMORTALITY OP THE SOUL. 

Anima, vagula, blandula, 
Hospes, comesque corporis ; 
Quo nunc abibis in loca ? 
Pallidula, rigida, nudula, 
Nee ut soles, dabis jocos. 

Adrian to his Soul, 

''Poor little, pretty, fluttering thing, 

Must we no longer live together ? 
And must thou prune thy trembling wing, 

To take thy flight, thou know^st not whither f 
Thy pleasing vein, thy humorous folly, 

Lie all neglected, all forgot. 
And, pensive, sad, and melancholy, 

Thou hop'st and fear*st, thou know'st not what,'* 

It is an observation of Cicero, in his work De 
Ofl&ciis, that every subject should set out with 
the definition of it ; but my opinion is, had he 
been asked to define what the soul is, he would 
have been a good deal puzzled. And surely no 
one will expect me to be possessed of more criti- 
cal acumen and niceness of distinction than Cic- 
ero. At the same time, I have a great many 
advantages over him ; and though I may not 
attempt to define what the soul is, in so many 



THE world's battle. 53 

words, I have a good hope that no person will 
have any difficulty in absence of a regular defi- 
nition, but will understand the subject as well, 
if not better, without one. 

I confess, indeed, that it would afford me great 
pleasure to be able to accommodate the reader 
with a definition that would be full and to the 
point; but, being quite too ignorant for this 
purpose, I deem it preferable to attempt nothing 
without a prospect of success. After this in- 
genuous confession, the less inquisitive will be in 
a degree satisfied ; and those who are more curi- 
ous can ask their clergy what the soul is ; and if 
these gentlemen answer them in a few words, it 
will show, what no doubt is the case, that they 
know much more about the subject than I do. 

But if any one thinks I do not understand it, 
I hope to show such an one that he is very much 
mistaken; and, to all, I hope it will seem best 
that I make no attempt to say the soul is exactly 
such and such, and so, and nothing else. For 
no definition, I take it, can exactly be correct ; 
whereas, by descriptions, by comparisons and 
analogies, this interesting but otherwise dark and 
mysterious subject, unfolds itself to view with as 
much clearness as the present mode of our human 
existence admits of. 

The wide universe consists of two substances, 

5HC 



54 THE world's battle. 

and two only, but different as light and darkness. 
These are matter and spirit, or matter and mind, 
or matter and soul, if you choose to say so, for 
spirit, mind, and soul are, in many instances, 
identical; and, in the present work, the word 
soul will often mean either, being the immaterial 
substance in man, possessed of independent exist- 
ence, endowed with immortality. Some may 
object to my use of the word substance as applied 
to that which is immaterial ; but Locke, in The 
Essay on the Human Understanding, justifies the 
use of it ; and it is also so used by Drew in his 
Treatise on the Immateriality and Immortality 
of the Soul. A spiritual substance is an essence 
or existence not dependent on matter, and in 
this sense may stand for entity or existence. 

It has been stated that matter and mind are 
all that have existence in the universe. Matter 
is any substance which enters into the composi- 
tion of a body; and, under every modification, 
it has certain properties essential to it. These 
are, solidity , magnitude y and figure. Matter, 
without these, cannot exist. Take any one away, 
and you destroy the whole. For, let the object 
be cube, globe, square, or parallelopiped ; let it 
be rhomboid, lozenge, parallelogram, or any other 
figure, it must have solidity. As such, it must 
needs occupy space; and, consequently, possess 



THE world's battle. 55 

divisibility and extension. Assume the atomic 
theory, and let it be divided by the geometrician 
or the chemist till it fades from the naked eye, 
and is invisible to the microscope that magnifies 
as many thousand diameters — yet must the in- 
visible atom have magnitude, though almost infi- 
nitely small : and form or figure is one of its at- 
tributes stilL Divide it yet into the most im- 
palpable powder, and fancy that again divided 
continually ; yet the properties before mentioned 
adhere to it, till it quite disappears from the 
subtlest efforts of our imaginations. Yet how 
inert is matter I Held down by the vis inerticBy 
a body will remain in its place long as the world 
lasts, if not put in motion by some dynamic force. 
Even then, the resistance of earth or air, its own 
gravity, and a variety of other causes, will arrest 
the force of the most formidable projectile that 
ever engineer hurled from the thundering appli- 
ances of warfare, or that ever demolished a city 
wall, or shook the firmest bastion of an impreg- 
nable fortress. The largest planet that rolls in 
space, and performs its revolution in any number 
of years, gliding through the endless rounds of 
duration, and describing circles of perpetual mo- 
tion, would have been at a stand forever, had not 
motive power first impressed it; and, once in 
motion, it will move forever, unless some exte- 



56 THE world's battle. 

rior force arrests its progress. The fiery comet 
that pursues its shining, dreadful track, is under 
certain exterior guidance, and moves in its erratic 
orbit by the guiding force that directs its slight- 
est progress. 

In the various combinations of matter^ there- 
fore, there is inertness ; and no principle within 
itself whereby it can act, but always exteriorly it 
must be acted upon. 

Hear what a heathen poet, near two thousand 
years ago, says about Creation, according to his 
tradition, and the views entertained by the sages 
of his day. 

I translate a few lines from the first Book of 
Ovid's Metamorphoses : 

" In the beginning, the sea and earth, and the 
sky that covered the whole, exhibited one uniform 
aspect of nature throughout the world, which is 
denominated Chaos, a rude and indigested mass, 
with nothing at all but a sluggish weight, and 
the discordant elements of things heaped up 
together in confusion. No sun as yet afforded 
light to the world, nor did the moon by increment 
fill her horn ; nor did the earth, poised by its own 
weight, hang in the circumambient air ; nor the 
sea extend its arms along the distant coasts. 
Wherever earth was, in the same place existed 
sea and air. Consequently, the earth was not 



THE world's battle. 57 

fit to be trodden on (unstable), the sea unnavi- 
gable, and the sky void of light. Nothing had 
its proper form. One thing stood opposed to 
another, because in the same discord the cold 
elements were at variance with the hot, the moist 
with the dry, soft with hard, and the heavy with 
light weight." 

All bodies in Nature may be divided into two 
classes, the inorganic and the organic or organ- 
ized. The first comprehends the mineral king- 
dom, the last the vegetable and animal. The 
first class is governed by the laws of physics, and 
the last is under the control of vitality and intelli- 
gence, together with physics. And the distinc- 
tions between these, as well as the line of de- 
markation that divides them, are not always 
easy to define, for their extremes merge into each 
other insensibly. No one, indeed, would mistake 
a crystal for a flower, or confound a tree with a 
quadruped ; but it is not always so easy to dis- 
tinguish a coral from the rock to which it is at- 
tached, or between a vegetable and the lowest 
polypus with scarce a rudiment of animality. 

The organic and inorganic^ however, differ ]. 
In form. In organic bodies, the shape is al- 
ways determinate for every species and race, 
though individuals may differ somewhat. In in- 
organic, however, there is either no shape at all, 



58 THE world's battle. 

or else the forms are crystals, bounded by angles 
and straight lines. 2. Organized bodies always 
spring from a parent or germ ; inorganic from 
mere increase of particles of matter, by means of 
cohesion or chemical affinity. 3. They differ too 
in internal structure. Organic bodies are made 
up of different parts or organs, of which each has 
a different texture, and the union of the whole is 
required to make the being perfect ; but a crystal, 
being inorganic, can be divided into a thousand 
fragments, and yet each will, though a small 
atom, perfectly represent the original. 4. The 
size of an inorganic body may be of any magni- 
tude, great or small, but in organized beings 
there usually are certain limits, not often devi- 
ated from. 5. In chemical composition the ele- 
ments entering into the composition of an organic 
body being few compared with those of the inor- 
ganic. Of the sixty-two simple elements in the 
inorganic kingdom, about eighteen only belong 
to organic bodies ; and of these only four are 
essential, carbon, oxygen, hydrogen, and nitro- 
gen. 

In all forms of matter, organic and inorganic, 
there is no consciousness , no thinking power. 
There is no thinking or sensation in a stone. In 
like manner, there is no consciousness, thinking, 



THE world's battle. 59 

or sensation in the human body, when the life — 
the breath — the mind — the soul has left it. 

The Roman historian Sallust says : ** All our 
strength consists in mind and body. We make 
more use of the empire of the mind than the 
energies of the body ; the first we share with the 
Deity, the last with brutes. '^ And again, in an- 
other place, he says : " The mind is at once the 
general and prince of the life of mortals ; for, as 
the human race have a body and soul, so all 
things and all our pursuits, whatever they may 
be, follow the nature of the body or that of the 
mind.'' The remainder of this passage I will 
translate when I come to treat of the Immor- 
tality of the Soul. 

There is a something in man that does not be- 
long to the body — nay, is exceedingly distinct 
from -it ; and it is as dissimilar to it as distinct 
from it. What is it, then ? What is its nature ? 
Does it exist independently of the body, and of all 
matter, and time, and space ; or, the companion 
of the body, will it end when animal life is ex- 
tinct ? That is the point. That is the question. 
It is that I have to consider. 

May the great Author of our being shine upon 
our intellectual and moral nature in beams of heav- 
enly love, and while astonishment and admira- 
tion fill the utmost capacities of us all, make our 



60 THE world's battle. 

efforts a hymn of praise to Himself, the Adonah 
Elohim, world without end I 

Matter, as every one knows, is destructible. 
The loftiest monuments of human industry, the 
most stupendous works of man, sink under the 
hand of time. 

*'In Venice, Tasso's echoes are no more, 

And silent rows the songless Gondolier; 
Her palaces are crumbling to the shore, 

And music meets not always now the ear. 
Those days are gone — but beauty still is here. 

States fall, arts fade, but Nature doth not die. 
Nor yet forget how Venice once was dear, 

The pleasant place of all festivity. 
The revel of the earth, the masque of Italy." 

Greece and Rome have had their day. Like 
the mighty empires of old, their glories are pros- 
trate in the dust. The lody of man, more fragile 
than his works, has perished. Its particles have 
been scattered in ten thousand millions of atoms 
to the four winds. The generations of men have 
disappeared one after another, and a human life 
is cut off every second of time, while, in the same 
point of duration, another being is born into the 
world. Homer has a fine comparison of the life 
of man : 

" As leaves on trees, the race of man is found, 
Now green in youth, now withering on the ground; 



THE world's battle. 61 

Another race the following Spring supplies; 
They fall successive, and successive rise ; 
Thus generations in their course decay, 
So flourish tJiese, while those are passed away/' 

And, speaking of the bodies of some who were 
in their day the greatest ornaments to society. 
in one of the most refined ages of mankind, we 
may ask, 

" Ancient of days ! august Athasna, where, 

Where are thy men of might, thy grand in soul ? 

Gone, — glimmering through the dream of things that were. 
First in the race that led to glory's goal. 

They won — then passed away." 

They did indeed ! Passed away from earth, 
and time, and those things that, like their bodies, 
were fit only for the moth and the worm. ** They 
slept the sleep that knows not waking." They 
reached '*that bourne from which no traveler re- 
turns." ^' They were gathered to their fathers." 
What then ? They ended their race. That mys- 
terious thing, or being, or monster, or whatever 
bugbear it is, that frightens folks, which the 
Greeks call edvato^, the Latins morSf and the 
English deathf carried them captives away. 
Even death could not destroy the matter of their 
bodies. The corn now grows where Troy once 
stood. The earth holds the dust of Cheops, 
6 



62 THE world's battle. 

though his monument is not seen. The ensan- 
guined plain has yielded nutriment to the hus- 
bandman ; and the very phosphorus in his bones 
and nerves and brain may have come from that 
of the slain of a former generation ! Philosophy 
teaches us that no particle of matter is lost. It 
assumes a new form. Pass electricity through 
water ; it is decomposed : the hydrogen escapes, 
and the oxygen goes to the zinc or metal to form 
an oxyde of the same. Can it be thought, then, 
that Homer and Hesiod, Hippocrates and Galen, 
Plato and Socrates, have ceased to exist when 
life ended ? Are Moses and Confucius, Zoro- 
aster and Pythagoras, extinct ? Is Demosthenes 
become a nonentity, and Cicero annihilated ? 
*' Our fathers, where are they ? and the prophets, 
do they live forever ?'' Let us inquire. 

There is that in man that has no property such 
as his body has. It is not solid ; you cannot 
weigh or measure it. You cannot touch, taste, 
or handle it. It has no magnitude, is not great 
or small, except by a figurative sense. It pos- 
sesses no divisibility or extension. It exists in 
the body, no doubt. It looks out through differ- 
ent windows of the body, it may be ; and it may 
make a faithful servant of the body, causing it to 
act at its command for good or evil : but its 
nature is as much different from and superior to 



THE world's battle. 63 

the body, as its origin may claim to be. Oq 
close scrutiny, we find it has several very curious 
attributes, of which consciousness of its own ex- 
istence may be said to rank in the first place. 
Indeed, it seems to be necessary to its existence. 
By this property, inherent in him, man comes to 
know he exists ; and this being, so to speak, a 
rallying point, many other faculties unite with 
it, and form together what the human race, from 
different notions, call, in various languages, by 
various names, but which in all are very much 
the same in reality. Hence, you will find how 
absurd it would be to define that which, in its 
nature, is so complicated, and so much more easy 
to conceive than define. The immaterial prin- 
ciple in man is called in Greek Ov/xb^, from evu>, 
to move violently : a good idea, as implying the 
constant and ever restless activity of mental ope- 
rations. This word is used by them to mean 
the breath, soul, mind, heart, life ; and from hence, 
movement, impulse, inclination, appetite, affec- 
tion, disposition, &c., &c. The Latins use the 
word animus in precisely the same sense, and 
derive it from avsfio^, the wind. The Greeks have 
another word for the same thing, called 4i5;t^, 
from '^vx(^ to breathe, which means the breath, 
life, soul, spirit ; mind, reason, understanding ; 
disposition, affections, &c,, &c. This, it may be 



64 THE world's battle. 

observed, is like the word Ov/xb^ in most particu- 
lars. The Greek tongue is the original of the 
New Testament, and the most exact, copious, 
beautiful, and mellifluous language ever spoken. 
It has, besides those mentioned, another word 
significant of the immaterial principle in man, 
called 7ivsvfA.a, from Ttvsoi to blow, and means 
breathing, breath, respiration, aspiration ; a blast, 
a gale, life, soul, a spirit ; spiritual being, good 
or evil ; the Holy Ghost, divinity, divine nature ; 
works of the Spirit, religion, holiness, piety, 
virtue, integrity, innocence; disposition of the 
soul, understanding, mind, intellect, &c., &c. The 
Latin anima means the same, and stands for both 
^vxyj and Ttvsvfia ; both correspond to the English 
word life or soul, as the Greek Ov/xb^j the Latin 
animus^ and the English mind, are taken for the 
mental faculties generally, implying the intel- 
lectual powers, while the word soul, or spirit, has 
reference to the moral affections and spiritual 
essences in a disembodied state. 

The Greeks use the word xTJp, contracted from 
xsap, for the heart, the soul, the mind, spirit, &c., 
&c. ; this corresponds to the Latin word cor, from 
which the latter is derived, and means the same 
thing as our word heart, so often taken for the 
mind, the soul and its affections. The Greeks 
besides express the same idea by the word ^pr^v, 



THE world's battle. 65 

which means the mind, thought, intellect, under- 
standing, sense, prudence ; the heart, the breast ; 
and the diaphragm, a muscle, the largest in the 
body, dividing the thorax from the abdomen. 
These different names all point the one way, and 
mean, with certain restrictions, one and the same 
thing. It seems almost certain that the heart 
was considered at least the centre of the affec- 
tions. 

The human mind, from its nature, cannot come 
into immediate contact direct with the exterior 
world : it must of necessity derive all its informa- 
tion through the avenues of the body, or, in other 
words, of special senses, five in number, viz. : 
sight, hearing, touch, taste, and smell. These 
sensibilities are entirely distinct from the mind, 
and limited to a special nervous apparatus for 
each sense, and hence called nerves of special 
sense, used for that purpose and none other. The 
brain is the instrument through which the mind 
acts ; and it was formerly thought by some that 
it was the seat of the soul, which, according to 
Descartes, was said to reside in what is known 
to anatomists as the pineal gland. It is not my 
purpose or place at present to describe the Nerv- 
ous System, however important it is to the mind, 
and however indispensable to vitality. This 
would come in very well in a physiological work. 
6* 



66 THE world's battle. 

Suffice to say, that the nerves are composed of a 
bundle of fibres, in a delicate sheath of white 
fibrous matter which invests it, called neuri- 
lemma. These nerves ramify to all parts of the 
body, and are without sensation themselves, 
though conductors of it ; being like the electric 
wires for the transmission of messages. And, 
just as the electric spark runs along the wire 
with its message to different stations, so the idea 
runs along the nervous system of man, reaches 
the sensorium in the brain, adds perception to 
consciousness, and flashes thought along the con- 
volutions of the cerebrum, giving rise to sensa- 
tion and voluntary motion, and originating the 
action that may give an era to history, and revo- 
lutionize mankind I 

How mysterious the fact that the human soul 
dwells in the human body, and is joined with it 
all the days of life ! The one is matter ; the 
other spirit. The one inert; the other active. 
The one the master ; the other the servant. How 
can matter and spirit be joined ? Ask the anato- 
mist, who has examined the brain, the medulla 
oblongata, the medulla spinalis, the nerves of 
special sense, the afferent and the efferent ; who 
can tell you how they ramify through the brain 
here, and the muscular texture there ; how one 
set presides over the functions of animal life, 



f 



THE world's battle. 67 

another over intellectual operations ; how the 
great sympathetic system is joined to both — ask 
this wise man, who can point out every nerve in 
the complicated system, how the noble mind and 
ignoble body are joined, and he cannot tell. 
Ask the renowned physiologist, who can talk so 
eloquently about mental perception and reflex 
action, who experiments and discloses facts that 
fill us with amaze ; ask him who knows so much 
of the vis nervosa, and talks so plausibly about 
the laws of vitality, and the correlation of forces ; 
ask him how the subtile spirit of a man is wedded 
to his sluggish, heavy, unwieldy, though won- 
drously fashioned body ; and this man of science 
and knowledge, of acumen and keen investiga- 
tion, will shake his head in a dignified and sig- 
nificant manner, and, as a sigh escapes him, admit 
he cannot tell ! Others may conceal their igno- 
rance behind a cloud of words, or elude us by 
fine terms, as the chemists do when they tell us 
about Katalysis ; but the truth is not made out, 
for no other reason that I know of than that of 
Uncle Toby — ^* because God would have it so." 
Yet, some vain men sneer at the doctrine of the 
Trinity, because their little minds cannot grasp 
the Infinite ; and are too proud to bow to the 
sceptre of Elohim, because he is beyond their 
comprehension ! Let them tell first how the 



68 THE world's battle. 

soul and body are united, a material organization 
and an immaterial spirit. 

Body and mind are more nearly connected than 
enters into the dreams of most people's philo- 
sophy. If it is well with the mind, the body is 
likely to be in health in most cases. If the mind 
is depressed, the functions of health are impaired, 
and disease leads the victim to the grave. A 
healthy body has a great influence on the mind. 
It stimulates even the intellectual powers. It 
v/as a common saying of the ancients, Sanus 
animus in sano corpore — a sound mind in a 
sound body. I am now speaking of the mind as 
the centre and source of intellectuality. When 
I speak of the soul, it will be seen that no suffer- 
ing or pain, joy or sorrow, can sway it ; that it 
rises higher and higher in excellence, sublimity, 
and grandeur, will throw out sparks of illumina- 
tion in the dissolution of its narrow house — 

^'Will clap the glad wing and tower away. 
And mingle with the blaze of day V 

It is by examining the different attributes of 
the soul that we can see it, can know it, and 
understand it. We mentioned consciousness and 
perception, by which the mind or soul takes cog- 
nizance of objects presented, and this often, in the 



1 



THE world's battle. 69 

first place, through the intervention of the senses, 
or, as I before explained, by means of the nerves 
of special sense. For example, you are conscious 
of your own existence. Yery well. You know 
you are a man or a woman of certain years, as 
the case may chance to be. You know where 
you are, and you are conscious, we will suppose, 
that some one reads to you from this page. You 
are conscious of this. The word coiiscioiis is 
from con with, and scio to know. You therefore 
know; and this knowledge is connected with 
some other fact or idea in your mind. Now, 
then, as you listen, the w^ords you listen to pro- 
ducing a certain articulate sound, the air is put 
in motion by certain vibrations ; and these, by a 
variety of undulations, are carried toward the 
auditorius externus meatus of your ear, and this 
very curiously constructed organ impresses the 
sound on your tympanum, or ear drum, by which 
an impression is made on the seventh pair of 
nerves, called auditory, which conveys the sensa- 
tion to the vesicular matter of the brain, and you 
perceive it. Hence, you understand the faculty 
of the mind or soul, called perception. You may 
gain perception by any of the other senses. 
Thus, as some one stands right in front of you, 
his form and features are distinctly painted on 
the retina of your eye ; but not as you think, for 



TO THE world's battle. 

you think him standing on his feet, and so one 
would imagine ; but, somehow or other, Science 
takes a queer view of things, and paints the im- 
age in an inverted position on the retina, which 
would make him stand on his head. An impres- 
sion is made on the second pair of nerves, ex- 
panding into the retina, called optic, from oTi'tox'^aLy 
to see ; and here again you hsiYe perception. The 
same perception may be in other cases conveyed 
by taste, smell, and touch. This is mental per- 
ception. 

But, when you perceive a thing, some other 
idea springs up in your mind. You compare 
what you now hear with something you have 
heard before ; you may think it strange, and per- 
haps do not quite agree with what you hear, and 
for some certain cause. If some one tells you 
this hoar is twelve o'clock at noon, you do not 
assent, for your consciousness and perception tell 
you differently. You see also that there are 
candles, or the gas is lit, and therefore it cannot 
be noon. You wonder then whether what you 
hear is figurative or not ; and if you find not, and 
it is asserted still it is noon, you come to the con- 
clusion the person is either a false deceiver, mad, 
drunk, or crazy. Let me show you, then, that 
you laid down certain premises, compared facts 
by a certain operation of the mind called reason- 



THE world's battle. T1 

ing, came to a conclusion that the thing was not 
true, as contrary to the evidence of your senses, 
and therefore formed the conclusion which dis- 
covers that the human mind or soul, with the 
faculties of consciousness, perception, and reason- 
ing, has also that oi judgment. The way you ar- 
rived at it was this ; you laid down a syllogism in 
this way : 

1. Whoever flatly asserts what is contrary to 
the known facts, must be a liar, mad, drunk, or 
crazy. 

2. This man does make such assertion. 

3. Ergo : This man is in such a condition. 
The Will is that faculty of the soul that leaves 

man a free agent to do as he pleases. If he is 
forced to the contrary, or is obliged to act differ- 
ently, or has not in his power to act as he would, 
the Will, in this case, is kept in abeyance, and 
not brought into play. Few subjects have given 
the learned such endless difficulty and dispute as 
its freedom. Suffice it for our purpose to quote 
the lines of Milton : 

" others apart sat ou a hill retired, 
In thought more elevate, and reasoned high 
Of Providence, Foreknowledge, Will, and Fate, 
Fixed Fate, Free-will, Foreknowledge absolute, 
And found no end, in wandering mazes lost." 

One of the most pleasing faculties of the soul, 



72 . THE world's battle. 

as well as the most tormentiDg, is memory. Im- 
pressions made seldom fade away, if stamped in 
the memory in early life. It is a curious fact, 
that ideas of childhood and youth are remem- 
bered with a vividness that defies the lapse of 
time, and seem to be as it were engraven in the 
soill, so as never to be forgotten. What happens 
in middle life, and toward its close, can seldom 
be retained with the greatest labor, except when 
the impression made is strong. It is almost al- 
ways likely to fade. First, it grows indistinct, 
then fainter and fainter, till it is wholly effaced ; 
yet, from the constitution of the wonderful prin- 
ciple within us, we may have the same renewed 
when our memory is refreshed. Who has not 
heard the fine lines of the bard of Erin : — 



" She is far from the land where her young hero sleeps, 

And lovers around her are sighing ; 
But coldly she turns from their gaze and weeps, 

For her heart in his cold grave is lying. 
She sings the wild songs of her dear native plains, 

Each note that he loved awaking; — 
Ah ! little they think, who exult in her strains, 

That the heart of the minstrel is breaking !" 



The various other faculties of the soul it is not 
needful we should trace. They will come in in- 
cidentally as we go on. It must be apparent to 



THE world's battle. 73 

the most casual observer, that the immaterial 
principle in man is made up of these different 
elements as a part of the whole, and each would 
be incomplete without the other. Hence, a mind 
equally poised, and well regulated, would move 
as steadily in its orbit as the sun in his course, 
and man answer the end for which he was cre- 
ated. What must the human soul have been when 
first man stood in the rectitude of his first love, 
ere sin and death entered the world, or the fairest 
portion of God's handiwork was marred, and the 
human soul tainted with the foulest leprosy of 
inbred sin ! In her original purity, how fair the 
spotless innocence that shone with brilliant splen- 
dor in the happy place where Adonah Elohim 
fashioned him above all our conceptions of moral 
perfection ! Well might even a heathen poet 
remark, Os homini sublime dedit ccelumque tueri 
— He made man of lofty presence, to look heav- 
enward. 

There is a beautiful fiction in the ancient my- 
thology about Prometheus, who is reported to 
have made a man from clay, and animated him 
with fire brought down, by an evil fraud, from 
the heavenly mansions. Tradition gave the 
ancients some ideas about the nature of the soul, 
that shows they had some shrewd notions about 
its heavenly origin. It would be curious to enter 
1 



74 THE world's battle. 

into the speculative philosophy about the eternity 
of matter, and the doctrines of Pythagoras, and 
the Indian tradition of the metempsychosis, or 
transmigration of souls. But the subject in this 
way would be more curious than useful ; and 
those who desire to pursue it, can gain informa- 
tion from those better versed in it than I can be. 
The Origin of the Soul is one of the most ele- 
vating thoughts that can distinguish a man from 
the mere brute. God formed man out of the 
dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils 
the breath of two lives, nephesh ghayim, and 
man became a living soul. Hence, there is a 
soul in man, and the inspiration of the Almighty 
gives him understanding. The body is dust. The 
soul is the breath of the Almighty, who created 
man in his own image. 

The soul, then, is in its origin divine. The 
pure and holy Being whose dwelling is in light 
inaccessible, the grand Author of Nature, and 
Maker of the things that are, whether thrones, 
or dominions, or principalities, or powers ; — this 
great and infinitely perfect Being, spiritual and 
pure in his own essence, and infinitely happy in 
himself, made man in his own image. The soul 
of man was without spot of sin. No impure alloy 
lurked in his unspotted soul. He answered the 
end of his being. He was like him who made 



» 



THE WORLD^S BATTLE. T5 

him. The vast powers of his mind and soul were 
exercised only for good ; and, above all things, 
his soul sought its happiness in the knowledge 
of him whom he worshiped in spirit and in truth. 
Cherubim and seraphim found him fit companion, 
for it is just to suppose that Milton is more led 
by truth than poetic fancy, when he portrays, in 
pencilings that will never perish, the glory and 
the dignity of him who saw the King in his 
beauty — who conversed with his Maker. 

The grandeur of the soul is seen in the great 
truth that the Infinite made it a miniature like- 
ness of his own perfections. It differed not from 
the spirit of the highest seraph that, with face 
behind his wing, exulted in the dazzling glories 
of the eternal throne. Man was joined to a body. 
But oh, how different from the degenerate race 
of fallen man ! 

" A lovelier pair ne'er since in love's embraces met, 
Adam the goodliest man of men since born, 
The fairest of her daughters. Eve." 

The moral law, the Decalogue, was not yet 
given to man. But it was written on his heart, 
engraven on his soul, while he retained the divine 
image. His understanding was the vast store- 
house from whence he drew rich treasures of 
sacred lore. What was the wisdom of Solomon 



76 THE world's battle. 

to that of Adam ? What the genius of JiTevvton, 
the philosophy of Bacon or of Locke, the learn- 
ing of Johnson, to his ? What, in comparison 
to him, was Homer or Virgil, Dante or Milton, 
Horace or Shakspeare? How insignificant hu- 
man learning or genius to his ? Demosthenes 
and Cicero, Plato, Socrates, Zoroaster, Confu- 
cius, Pericles, Lycurgus, Solon, Galen, Hippo- 
crates, Moses, Daniel, and David, — what were 
they and all the sons of Adam in comparison 
with himself in person, mind, and soul ? 
What then is the nature of the soul ? 

"A beam etherial, sullied and absorbed : 
Though sullied and dishonored, still divine" 

The human mind, in this our age, can grasp 
the most abstruse mysteries of science. All the 
wisdom of Egypt, the learning of Greece, the en- 
terprise of Carthage, and the greatness of Rome, 
are surpassed and left behind. The stormy ocean 
yields to the energies of man, and he pursues un- 
impeded his onward course over its foaming bil- 
lows. Steady, directed by the compass, he cal- 
culates the distance, departs, and reaches his des- 
tination in the allotted time. He pushes his way 
to the furthest ^orth, and lays open to the flag 
of his country the frozen regions of the Polar 



THE world's battle. TT 

Sea. His genius and prowess surmount the 
dangers that threaten, and he opens the commerce 
of nations, and pours the commodities of other 
climes into the lap of luxury. The rapid car 
receives him as he annihilates space, and the wire- 
like enchantment bears him swifter than the wind. 
He almost obviates the curse, *' in the sweat of 
thy brow shalt thou eat bread," for his ingenuity 
makes labor-saving machines, and matter yields 
to mind. He chains the ocean with his cable, 
and soars with Dedselian art into the clouds of 
heaven. The deep supplies him, and he ran- 
sacks the bowels of earth, which yield her hidden 
treasures. He can hold converse with sages of 
antiquity, and his mind is replenished with the 
knowledge of former generations. The diseases 
of the body he can heal, and say to fell disease 
— give place! All but the hand of death can 
he stay, and the hour that will be his last on 
earth. His imagination can soar aloft, and his 
faith raise him to companionship with angels. 
He is the object of the Divine regard, and, though 
fallen, a Ransom has been found. 

Surely such is the nature of the soul in man. 
If such it be now, what must it have been ere 
man departed from the righteousness in which he 
was made? 

I have not spoken of the Passions of the soul. 
7* 



T8 THE world's battle. 

Cain was the first to yield to anger; and a 
brother's blood cried to heaven for vengeance 
from the ground. Nimrod the Great was a 
mighty hunter before the Lord, and his ambition 
laid the foundation of the Assyrian Empire. 
Nebuchadnezzar, the king of haughty Babylon, 
boasted of his might, and was led on in the 
trammels of inordinate ambition and indomitable 
pride, till taught that a Power superior rules in 
the kingdoms of men. The pride of man in- 
creased before the Flood, and the corruption of the 
race almost extinguished it, and opened the win- 
dows of the great deep that poured in the deluge 
in which only eight persons were preserved. 
Lust soon made its appearance, and drew down 
the divine displeasure. As the nations increased 
after the dispersion at the Tower of Babel, war 
and bloodshed, rapine and murder, have marked 
the race till now. The pages of history are a 
tissue of the pride, anger, lust, jealousy, revenge, 
hatred, ambition, cruelty, and treachery of man- 
kind. 

Agamemnon led the Greeks against Troy, and 
warriors bled for ten years ; and the most popu- 
lous city of Asia was laid in the dust, through 
the adulterous intercourse of a vain and worth- 
less fellow. The army of Xerxes almost all per- 
ished, and a million of men fell to gratify the 



THE WORLD^S BATTLE. 79 

pride and imbecility of a worthless king. Antio- 
chus Epiphanes was the most cruel and wicked 
of men. He slew tens of thousands. And the same 
might be said of the royal madman Alexander — 
and of Caesar, who imitated him, and in whose 
wars over a million lives were sacrificed in Gaul. 
The contest of Actium, and the Plains of Phar- 
salia, cut off hundreds of thousands ; and, in the 
time of the Roman Empire, the corpses of men 
that fell from the time of Caesar to Charlemagne, 
and from that till Constantinople was taken by 
the Turks, would, I have no doubt, be very many 
millions, and, if piled on one another, reach as 
high as the loftiest Alps ; while the blood shed 
would make a lake as large and deep as that of 
Geneva ! If any one thinks this exaggerated, let 
him study Gibbon's Decline and Fall of the Ro- 
man Empire ; think on the carnage of Napoleon's 
campaigns, the wars of England, the British war 
in India, and the war in the Crimea. Compare 
Byron's Siege of Corinth : 

" Many a vanished year and age, 
And tempest's breath, and battle's rage, 
Have swept o'er Corinth ; yet she stands 
A fortress formed to Freedom's hands. 
The whirlwind's wrath, the earthquake's shock, 
Have left untouched her hoary rock, 
The keystone of a land which still, 
Though fallen, looks proudly on that hill ; 



80 THE world's battle. 

The landmark to that double tide 

That purpling rolls on either side, 

As if their waters chafe to meet, 

Yet pause and crouch beneath her feet. 

But could the blood before her shed. 

Since first Timoleon's brother bled, 

Or baffled Persia's despot fled. 

Arise from out the earth which drank 

The stream of slaughter as it sank, 

That sanguine ocean would o'erflow 

Her isthmus idly spread below; 

Or could the bones of all the slain 

Who perish'd there be piled again. 

That rival pyramid would rise 

More mountain-like through those clear skies. 

Than yon tower-capt Acropolis, 

That seems the very clouds to kiss J" 



Such passions have sullied the soul of man. 
Ignorance, error, superstition, and idolatry have 
prevailed ; and the lights of the nineteenth cen- 
tury have not dispelled the darkness that falls 
misty on the horizon of the human soul. How 
has love been perverted ! In most languages, 
ancient and modern, it is but another name for 
lust. In the best of individuals the passions 
would, if yielded to, lead far beyond the bounda- 
ries of virtue ; and the great Apostle to the Gen- 
tiles had to lay restraint on himself, and keep his 
body in subjection, lest, having preached the 



THE world's battle. 81 

Gospel to others, he himself should become a 
castaway. 

Yet, when all the human affections are di- 
rected in the proper channel ; when the Divine 
Spirit that erewhile moved on the face of the 
waters, and brought order out of confusion, light 
out of darkness — when that Spirit regenerates the 
soul, and forms it anew, there are apparent, love, 
joy, peace, long-suffering, goodness, gentleness, 
faith — and the soul is set/ree. 

The soul, then, is immaterial, and spiritual in 
its nature and essence, capable of knowing God 
as the chief good ; and, consequently, of answering 
the end of its being. 

Let us consider its Immortality, 

I promised to translate the passage of Sallust 
in continuation : Accordingly, a beautiful form, 
a great fortune, and bodily vigor, with every thing 
of a like kind, glide away in a brief space ; but 
the splendid exertions of the intellect, like the 
mind itself, are immortal. The mind is incor- 
ruptible, eternal, governor of the human kind, 
performs and includes all things, but is itself in- 
dependent of any thing. — Homer ^ in the Eleventh 
Book of the Odyssey, causes Ulysses to visit the 
country of the Cimmerians, where was the descent 
to the shades below. Having duly performed 
certain sacred rites, he filled a vessel with the 



82 THE world's battle. 

blood of victims, and the spirits of the dead sur- 
rounding it ; he permitted none to touch it except 
the prophet Tiresias. The descent was in thick 
darkness ; and, after the tasting of the blood by 
Tiresias, he gave him information about how he 
should return to his house, and what the other 
changes of his life would be. He recognized his 
mother Anticlea, and, as soon as she tasted the 
blood, she explained to him the fortunes of his 
family. He saw also many of the ancient wor- 
thies, as Tyro, Antiopa, Alcmena, Epicastes, 
Chlorides, Leda, Iphemedia, Phaedra, Procrides, 
Ariadne, Maera, Clymene, Eriphyle. Then he 
saw Agamemnon, Achilles, Patroclus, Antilo- 
chus, Ajax ; as also Minos distributing justice, 
Orion hunting wild beasts ; Tityus, Tantalus, and 
Sisyphus tortured in various ways. Then he saw 
the shade of Hercules ; after which he again as- 
cended. 

Did space permit, I might say much about the 
incidents of this Eleventh Book of the Odyssey. 
It is extremely curious, as giving the common 
idea of very early antiquity respecting the state 
of the soul after death. Homer, it will be recol- 
lected, is about the earliest writer in the world, 
next to some of the sacred writers. It may be 
remarked, there is an air of sadness with all the 
souls he makes his hero visit in the disembodied 



THE world's battle. 83 

state. There was not the idea of great blessed- 
ness in any, but with those punished, continued 
torture. 

Virgil, in the Sixth JEneid, gives an account 
of the visit of -^neas to the Cumaean Sibyl, and 
of his descent with her into the lower world. 
There, after passing through the horrors of pur- 
gatory, he meets his father Anchises in Elysium. 
Anchises directs him respecting his future con- 
duct, gives him a prospective view of the glories 
of his posterity, and unfolds to him the sublime 
doctrine of the unity and omnipresence of the 
Deity, of the immortality of the soul, and of a 
state of rewards and punishments after death. 
He also explains the doctrine of the transmigra- 
tion of souls, as taught by Pythagoras, and in- 
culcates the importance of piety and virtue. 

I shall translate from line 680. 

*'But father Anchises, deeply musing in a 
blooming valley, was surveying the spirits en- 
closed there who were going to the light above. 
He was enumerating all the series of his descend- 
ants and dear posterity, the fates, fortunes, man- 
ners, and bands of heroes. As soon as he sees 
-^neas approaching, he eagerly extended both 
his hands. Tears flowed down his cheeks, and 
these words escaped him : 

" * Have you come at length, and has your 



84 THE world's battle. 

long-tried affection for your parent surmounted 
the difficulty of your journey ? It is granted me, 

son, again to see and converse with you ! This 
indeed I expected, calculating the time, and my 
anxiety has not disappointed me. What lands 
and seas do I know you to have explored, and 
what dangers have you been exposed to ! How 

1 feared for you, lest the Libyan kingdom should 
prove injurious to you !' But he answered : 
' Your, your sad image, oh father, often present- 
ing to me, obliged me to come hither. My ships 
are anchored by the Tuscan shore. Grant, grant 
me, father, to join my right hand, and remove me 
not from your embrace !' Thus saying, his cheeks 
overflowed with copious tears. Then thrice he 
endeavored to throw his arms around his neck. 
Thrice in vain, for the compressed image thrice 
eluded his grasp like light air, and similar to a 
fleeting dream.'' 

Dante has drawn a vivid picture of the state 
of the soul after death ; has followed it through 
the tortures of hell, and ascended with it to the 
joys of paradise. For him his loved Beatrice 
smiles from the mansions of the blessed, and in- 
culcates those precepts which, to practice, is 
virtue, piety, and heaven. 

Milton abounds with lofty thoughts of the souPs 
destiny in a future state. His ideas are majestic, 




ITS VERY NATURE IS COEVAL WITH ETERNITY. 

Seepage 86. 



THE world's battle. 85 

sublime, grand beyond description. He fills the 
soul with a sense of her own noble origin, and 
lets her attuned ear listen to the melody of 
heaven. 

YounQj in the Night Thoughts, brings us near 
the verge of the invisible state, and computes the 
value of the soul as beyond compare : 

*' Weigh worlds on worlds, one soul outweighs tTiem all." 

And again : 

'' E*en silent night proclaims my soul immortal, 
E'en silent night proclaims eternal day" 

The importance of Divine light to illumine 
the soul in her passage on, is finely seen : 

'' Thou who from solid darkness struck that 
Spark, the sun, strike wisdom from my soul, — 
My soul that flees to thee, her trust, her treasure. 
As misers to their gold while others rest." 

Longfellow has the following beautiful lines 
on the soul : 

" Life is constant, life is earnest, 
And the grave is not our goal ; 
Dust thou art, to dust returnest, 
Was not spoken of the soul," 

8 



86 THE world's battle. 

The argument for the immortality of the soul, 
on philosophical grounds, it is needless to enter 
upon. It is not likely that the Being who formed 
it, and made it immortal, would ever annihilate 
it, as such would be inconsistent with his own 
attributes. The death of the soul, as mentioned 
in Scripture, does not mean its dissolution, but 
its deprivation of the joys of heaven. It is both 
in accordance with the opinions of the wisest and ^ 
best of men, that the soul will live through end- 
less ages. It can never cease to live. Its very 
nature is coeval with eternity ; and the Scripture 
expressly informs us that it will endure everlast- 
ingly. This is the brightest hope of the Chris- 
tian — the greatest joy of a true believer in Jesus. 
It keeps his mind and soul in perfect peace, 
through him who has become incarnate, suffered, 
and died, to open the portals of immortality. 

The immortality of the soul is not always a 
blessing. There are myriads of souls confined to 
all eternity, who would gladly cease to exist, but 
cannot; for their worm dieth not, and the fire 
that burns them can never be quenched. Some, 
who pretend to love man, will say, ^^ God is too 
good to suffer any human soul to be tormented in 
the abode of hell through all eternity." But such 
is the doctrine of the Son of God ; and he uses 
the same expressions for the happiness of the 



THE world's battle. 87 

blessed as the torments of the damned. If, there- 
fore, the tortures of the lost souls in hell are not 
eternal, no more are the joys and extatic bliss of 
the happy in heaven. 

But we are to believe God rather than men. 
We must trust that a dying, rising, glorified Sa- 
viour tells us the truth ; and that is, that the soul 
of man is spiritual in its nature, immaterial in its 
essence, immortal in its duration, and happy or 
miserable for that duration, according as it has 
been washed and sanctified, or is defiled with sin. 
No word of Jesus tells us we can purge ourselves, 
here or hereafter. Indeed, we are told distinctly 
that, unless he washes us, we have no part in him. 
In vain are all the attempts a man can make to 
purge out the old leaven. The soul can only be 
made pure by him who purchased it with his 
atoning blood. And oh, if not freed from sin 
here, how awful must its state be through all the 
countless ages of eternity ! 

*' What matter which my thoughts employ, 
A moment's misery or joy ? 
But oh, when both shall end, 
Where shall I find my destined place ? 
Shall I my everlasting days 
With fiends or angels spend ?" 

Let us hope we will all get to glory hereafter. 



88 THE world's battle. 

Our perishable bodies shall rise from the dust of 
death, and the immortal soul again be reunited 
with the body, glorified and immortal. The Last 
Judgment past, we will rise to the paradise of 
God. Our souls, freed from sin here, and sanc- 
tified by faith in the atonement of Jesus, will have 
all their trials over. God shall wipe away all tears 
from our eyes. The sufferings of mortality will 
no more be known, nor the dangers and trials of 
a probationary state ever find a place in the man- 
sions of blessedness above. All will be peace 
and joy, rejoicings without end. We shall join 
with loved and lost friends. Those dear to our 
souls, snatched from us by the stroke of death, we 
shall again see, in a better world, to part no 
more. 

Angels and the company of heaven will be our 
companions, and the millions of the celestial hosts 
we shall behold in garments of light and of im- 
mortality. Above all, we shall see the face of 
God. How shall we exult to comprehend the 
unity of the Godhead, and the infinite perfections 
of him " whose love is as great as his power, and 
neither knows measure nor end " I How shall we 
exult in magnifying the Father's love, who gave 
his only-begotten Son to die for us ! How shall 
we triumph in the redeeming love that crucified 
the Prince of Life on the Cross of Calvary I 



THE world's battle. 89 

What adoring wonder will fill us as we behold 
Him who first loved us ! It is more than tongue 
can tell, or angel mind conceive. The senses will 
no more be needed to connect us with the spir- 
itual world. The Blessed Spirit, God Blessed 
forever, that guided us in the world, will fill all 
our capacities with joy unutterable, as we increase 
in perfection, and are assimilated more and more 
to the Divine Nature forever. 

But language fails, and the soul is lost in con- 
templation of its own immortality. We are 
bound by the chain of sense ; but soon the bonds 
will be loosed, and we shall be set free. 

Then let us not fear death. 

Let us rather prepare to meet our God. 



CHAPTER X. 

REMINISCENCES. 

Forsan et haec olim meminisse juvabit. — Virgil. 

A MAN must have lived to little purpose unless 

his life can afford one chapter at least to benefit 

others. Every author ought to have a sketch of 

his life in the work he puts forth. The reader 

8* 



90 THE world's battle. 

and author would have a mutual advantage, and 
understand each other letter . The writer of this 
book was born on the second day of December, 
1824, in the Townland of Drumclamph, Parish 
of Ardstraw, County of Tyrone, Province of 
Ulster, Ireland. His family has been known in 
the neighborhood for two centuries. They may 
claim to be respectable. The father and mother 
of the writer are, still living, and besides him have 
another son, William, and four daughters. One 
daughter, Mary, died about two years ago, and 
two other- children in infancy. The writer re- 
ceived his early education from William Simpson, 
in the school of Cavandora ; and being intended 
for farming, the pursuit of his father, he received 
no very liberal education, though as good as most 
of his neighbors. Improving all the leisure hours, 
he studied a great part of Latin grammar by 
himself, in an imperfect way ; and this coming to 
the ears of a relative of his father, a London sur- 
geon of considerable eminence, he proposed to 
defray the expenses, and give his young nephew 
all the advantages, in an educational way, the 
locality afforded. The plow was abandoned for 
Virgil, and rooting out old trees for tracing out 
Greek roots. A pony was bought, and the writer 
set thereupon. After some time, be proceeded 
to the Royal School of Dungannon, and reaped 



THE world's battle. 91 

the advantages of instruction under able masters 
for nearly two years. The head-master was, at 
that time, Rev. John R. Darley, Author of a 
'* Treatise on Homer,'' "The Grecian Drama," &c., 
one of the most considerable scholars of the age. 
Should his eye ever fall upon this humble page, 
he may feel assured that the excellent precepts he 
instilled have not been forgotten, impressed as 
they were by an example the most amiable, and 
a virtue the most sublime. Of the late Dr. Hun- 
ter, of Islington, London, the uncle of the writer, 
the following is from Jackson's Life of Rev. 
Richard Watson (chap. 2Bd, p. 416) : "He," Mr. 
Watson, "owed much to the professional skill 
and Christian friendship of James Hunter, Esq., 
of Islington, having been for many years under 
the care of that eminent surgeon." And, p. 430 : 
**Mr. Hunter, of Islington, who attended him 
with the most affectionate assiduity, suggested 
that one or more physicians should be consulted, 
as no means which had been hitherto tried were 
effectual in arresting the progress of the disease. 
Mr. Watson had the fullest confidence in the 
judgment of his friend, and believed that if Mr. 
Hunter could do nothing more for him, the case 
was hopeless." Mr. Hunter was a man of most 
amiable disposition and fervent piety. A further 
extract from the same page will not be out of 



92 THE world's battle. 

place in the World's Battle. ** I have seen him" 
(Mr. Watson), says Mr. Hunter, *'in such a state 
of suffering, that nature could not have endured 
the slightest augmentation of his pain, but must 
have fainted under the pressure ; and his cry was, 
not so much that the chastisement might be with- 
drawn, as that it might be overruled to the im- 
provement of his piety. 'Let it be sanctified!' 
was his constant prayer : ' God, let it be sanc- 
tified!'" In the Life of Rev. Henry Moore, 
Biographer and Executor of Rev. John Wesley, 
by the daughter of Dr. Adam Clarke, at p, 346 
is the following : " With the family of his medical 
adviser, J. Hunter, Esq., of Islington, he often 
spent the day, cheerfully entering into the history 
of bygone times, interspersed with anecdotes of 
men and events ;" and, p. 364 : '^ Surgeon Hunter 
immediately attended, and pronounced the seizure 
a stroke of paralysis," &c. Again, p. 394 : " His 
medical adviser, Mr. Hunter, was immediately 
sent for, who ordered him directly to bed again ; 
and all that could be done, was done in his case 
to relieve and protract life." Speaking of the 
aunt of the writer, at p. 386 : "Mr. Moore then 
conversed on the loss he had recently personally 
sustained by the death of his kind friend, Mrs. 
Hunter, of Islington, adding, ' She was always 
the same, and ever most attentive. She was a 



THE world's battle. 93 

good Christian, a good wife, a good mother, and 
have proved her to have been a steady friend. 
Surgeon Hunter has called upon me since his 
joss, and my heart felt for his heart, for I too 
nave known what it is to part with the love of my 
youth.' " Arrived in London, the writer was in- 
troduced by his uncle Hunter to Rev. Mr. 
Nicholson, by whom he obtained an appointment 
as assistant-teacher in a school in Norwich. He 
subsequently taught in St. Helier's, Jersey, one 
of the Channel Islands, and in several schools in 
or near London, Madras House, Hackney ; and 
Twickenham House, near Richmond, in the lovely 
valley of the Thames. After his uncle's death, 
he was tutor in North Elswick Hall, Newcastle- 
on-Tyne, for a year. Then returned to London, 
and embarked for this country in 1852. He had 
generally spent the vacations at his uncle's house 
in London. Returning from viewing the Falls 
of Niagara, he was thrown from his horse, and, 
on the recovery, vowed to lead a more serious 
life in future. He gave one year to study for the 
ministry, but abandoned this from certain obsta- 
cles some persons cast in his way, for which they 
must be responsible in the Day of Judgment. He 
then pursued his medical studies at Muskegon, 
Michigan, proceeded to Philadelphia, taught the 
Elementary Classics in Burlington College, in 



94 THE world's battle. 

connection with other duties, for a Term, and then 
entered the Medical Department of Pennsylvania 
College. Studying as hard as his capacity al- 
lowed, with numerous advantages besides those 
of the College course, he received the Diploma 
of Doctor of Medicine in the Musical Fund 
Hall, March 5th, 1856 ; since when he has been 
in the practice of the profession he adopted. 

He feels he has not been without his share of 
the difficulties encountered in the World's Bat- 
tle. He has been a stranger from his home and 
family, cast on his own resources at an early age. 
He has struggled with the temptations and trials 
in the great world of London ; felt himself an iso- 
lated being on '* the vasty deep," and struggled 
almost to suffocation in ^^ Wild Western Scenes." 
But he blesses God for the governance of a kind 
and unerring Providence, who has compassed him 
about with loving-kindnesses, raised him many 
and esteemed friends, and, as for the prophet of 
old, spread a table for him in the wilderness. It 
is at once his conviction and consolation — ^Hhat 
all things work together for good to them who 
love God ;" and while he deplores the differences 
that too far separate Christian communities, and 
the apathy of worldly men in general about '^ the 
one thing needful," he hopes to live to see the 
day when greater progress will be made in the 



THE world's battle. 95 

path of moral perfection, and the world join in 
fighting the World's Battle. 



CHAPTER XL 

MATERNAL INFLUENCE. 

And the Mother of Jesus was there. — John ii. 1, 

When the Great Author of Nature made man, 
he ordained, shortly after, the institution of mar- 
riage. The mate of Adam was never a mother 
before the lapse from moral perfection, in which 
the penalty of disobedience was inflicted on 'Na- 
ture through all her works. This penalty, which 
fell heavily on us all, fell heaviest, in several 
respects, on woman. '* In sorrow shalt thou bring 
forth children," was to her the sentence of the 
Almighty. The Creator made the human species 
male and female, and the propagation of the race 
was rendered dependent on woman. A mother's 
influence, then, is felt long ere she has forgotten 
her pains of travail for joy that a man is born 
into the world. Let no false delicacy or imper- 
fect observation hinder the reader from giving 
due weight to the observation. We are fearfully 



96 THE world's battle. 

and wonderfully made, and the mysterious process 
by which it pleases the Father of spirits to caU 
dying bodies and immortal souls into existence, 
is one of the most beautiful and admirable pre- 
sented to the mind of the physiologist, or that 
can claim the attention of the true Christian phi- 
losopher. And what can be more solemn, sacred, 
and affecting to the late pure virgin, who but a 
short time ago emerged from girlhood, to find 
that, in the shock of nature, she has given birth 
to a lovely babe, made in the Divine image, and 
prepared, for time and eternity, to maintain a 
separate existence I Who has duly considered 
what it is to be a mother ? In the Greek lan- 
guage, so polished and significant, the words for 
womb and for mother, are almost the same. And 
here a beautiful idea is conveyed, by which we 
are reminded that man that is born of a woman 
is of few days, and full of trouble. 

It is common to talk of a lover's fondness for 
his mistress. As he drinks in the maddening 
draughts of dear delicious love from her brilliant, 
sparkling, mischief-making eyes, no doubt a thrill 
of joy runs through his inmost soul. But what 
is that in comparison of a mother's love ? With 
far deeper, holier love does the instinct of a 
mother turn to her new-born infant. She has 
emotions, feelings, sentiments too deep for utter- 



( 



THE world's battle. 9Y 

ance ; deeper than a well — aye, deeper than the 
sea, or Atlantic and Pacific with all their waves. 
Mothers will bear me out in saying so. They 
know it. They feel it. They wonder how I 
knew this, how I ever thought of this. But I 
have thought of it much, and pondered it deeply ; 
nor do I think there is a holier emotion felt on 
earth, than that which throbs, and quivers, and 
trembles in a mother's heart. Sacred fountain 
of virtue, purity, and love ! well-spring of good- 
ness unutterable, whose sacred chords quiver in 
the incipient emotions of our hearts, and, woven 
with the web of existence, quicken us like the 
life-pulse in our journey through the thorny paths 
of this evil, heartless world ! 

A mother's influence ! God help us I Had 
we been true to that, we might have been good 
men and women. How has a mother's care 
watched over our helpless infancy, and warded 
off danger, either real or imaginary ! How has 
she listened to the feeble cries, and met the rising 
want from the copious nutriment of her own sup- 
ply I Mysterious provision, by which the hardiest 
son of toil has been fostered and prepared to sus- 
tain the severities by which he must pursue his 
onward way I It is thought the dispositions of 
after life are imbibed with the mother's milk. I 
am inclined to think that this is, in some measure, 
9 



98 THE world's battle. 

the case. Certain it is, the mother, even in in- 
fancy, leaves a great impression on the physical 
and mental constitution of the child. A large 
proportion of children die in infancy and early 
childhood. This is a fact too well known to 
mothers; and insidious disease has robbed the 
sorrowing mother of her beloved little one, while 
another, and yet another is taken away, so that 
she laments over death's unkindly frost, that 
nipped her flower so early. And let no one 
think that, while the little ones sleep 'neath the 
green sod, happy to be taken so soon from evils 
yet to come, the bursting sighs, and streaming 
tears, half disclose the anguish of the maternal 
bosom. In fact, it sometimes increases in mo- 
mentum like a falling pebble, and is even more 
felt in the end of long years than in the first 
burst of grief. There is nothing more remarkable 
than the sedulous attention with which a mother 
unremittingly devotes herself to the well-being 
and happiness of her children. They seem in 
her hand like clay in the hand of the potter, 
which she can mould at will to take just what 
form she pleases. There are no lessons, no pre- 
cepts, no instructions so long and so deeply re- 
membered as those of the mother. The mother 
of King Lemuel taught him many useful precepts, 
which he thought on in time favorable to their 



THE world's battle. 99 

practice, and they are worthy of imitation by all 
young men in general. Such men as John Wesley 
and his brother owed their fervent piety to a 
mother's influence ; and, were it to our purpose, 
numerous instances might be adduced, besides 
those of the Spartan mothers, to prove the extent 
of a mother's influence. But, before proceeding 
further, let it be duly considered what pain and 
peril attends on her who becomes a mother, and 
how great and intimate is the connection between 
a mother and her offspring. Before the birth, 
the same nourishment sustains both ; the very 
blood that courses through the veins of a mother 
is the same that nourishes and fosters the embryo, 
and that, when born into the world, circulates 
through all the system, and affords the pabulum 
vitae, or life stay. How indissoluble, then, is 
the connection between mother and child ! And 
how deep is her sympathy with it in pain or 
ease, joy or grief! She sighs over it in sickness, 
and watches over it with a solicitude and anx- 
iety that none but she can experience, and none 
but she can know. Can a mother forget her 
sucking child, that she should cease to have com- 
passion on the son of her womb ? is a question 
put by the Most High to his people Israel, to 
show his wakeful providence in guarding them. 
Any one of experience knows that the mother 



100 THE world's battle. 

will peril and lose her own life for her offspring. 
A bear, robbed of her whelps, is fierce and ready 
to tear to pieces. If a young lion is taken from 
its dam, she becomes terribly ferocious ; and even 
the hen, gathering her brood under her wings, is 
adopted as a simile by Him who knows all things, 
in order to show forth the preserving goodness 
of God to man. 

We may see the great reverence due to mothers 
from the high honor to which they aspired in 
Israel, in hoping to give birth to the Saviour of 
mankind. 

The language of the prophet was : Behold, a 
virgin shall conceive, and shall bring forth a son, 
and thou shalt call his name Immanuel, or God 
with us. Hence it was that an angel was sent 
to the Blessed Virgin Mary, announcing the fact 
of the miraculous conception and birth of the Son 
of God. The Word was made flesh. God be- 
came incarnate, and thus has given us another 
most powerful motive for reverencing those func- 
tions of maternity by which the race is prolonged, 
and those influences that a mother exerts on her 
offspring. This influence commences in the cra- 
dle, and probably ends in the grave. The grave, 
did I say ? — no ! the impression lasts forever. 
It is indelible to all eternity, and may be endless 



THE world's battle. 101 

misery or joy forever and ever, according as she 
has done her duty or neglected it. 

Every parent knows that the bringing up of a 
family is one of the most arduous and responsible 
duties on earth. The frowardness bound up in 
the heart of a child needs the most watchful care. 
Just as the twig is bent the tree's inclined. From 
the very cradle, education begins. As a mother's 
place is the home, as the home is the abode of 
the family, as the family is the little republic to 
be ruled and governed, nourished and supplied, 
so a mother's influence, like charity, begins at 
home, and, like charity too, does not end there. 
The mother, true to her duty, watches over the 
physical and mental development of her offspring, 
guards them with a tender care, and surrounds 
them with all the comforts of her frugality, all 
the blessings of her love. She watches the be- 
loved object, and gets it early vaccinated. A 
mother who neglects this is derelict in her duty. 
She fears the measels, scarlatina, whooping-cough, 
and cholera infantum ; while the croup, cold on 
the breast, and cutting teeth fill her mind with 
anxious alarms. She watches the symptoms of 
departure from the normal standard of health; 
and, while she administers the simple and well- 
known regulators of digestion, and her shelf is 
never without the little requisites that colic, 
9* 



102 THE world's battle. 

spasm, or quick convulsion might render neces- 
sary, she prudently avoids quack medicines, and 
consults, when needful, the scientific, skilled, and 
humane physician. If she thinks fit to call in the 
doctor, she will not grow impatient, or throw his 
prescription in the fire when his back is turned, 
but will use the means directed, without the pa- 
laver of old wives' fables. She will not send for 
all the doctors she can, without following the 
directions of any ; but, exercising a prudent dis- 
cretion, leave her child a chance of recovery. 
These precepts are of use to the mother, and tend 
to widen her influence, and extend her usefulness. 
Considering the numerous diseases of infancy and 
childhood, it would be well for mothers to send 
for medical advice early, if at all; and I think 
that in most cases the doctor's bill would not be 
more than the undertaker's. 

A good mother will provide medicine for the 
mind as well as for the body ; do all she can to 
curb, restrain, direct, exhort, and encourage, as 
the case may be ; and in no instance, if required, 
will she spare the rod. She will not let a child 
have its own way, will not spoil it through indul- 
gence, or frighten it with bugbears. Threats of 
the '*bad man," or the dark, or any object of aver- 
sion or terror, will never be made use of, but 
means employed to enable it to have a sound 



THE world's battle. 103 

mind in a sound body. If peevish and fretful, 
she will not put it asleep with opiates too often ; 
and, as her infant grows in years, will watch the 
earliest dawn of reason and intelligence, in order 
to instil precepts of piety, religion, morality, and 
virtue. And, as the fiercest disease will yield to 
the treatment of the skillful physician, so she will 
have the satisfaction of seeing her offspring grow 
up, a credit to herself, their country's pride, and 
the ornaments of mankind. From the age of 
twelve, the father, perhaps, will, as ruler of his 
house, exercise a wider influence than the mother ; 
but the dispositions she has imparted, and the 
seeds she has sown, are such as can never be 
changed or eradicated as long as life lasts. 

How responsible, then, is the mother's part ! 
On her it depends to replenish the state, popu- 
late the waste wilderness, and fill the country 
with good citizens. The foundations of the noblest 
edifices, the most perfect specimens of Corinthian 
or Gothic architecture are never seen ; yet, on 
these depend the whole superstructure. It is so 
with good morals in a nation. They depend on 
maternal influence ; and, as the cereal products 
of ancient Egypt, preserved perhaps in the cere- 
ments of a mummy, germinate after three thou- 
sand years, so the mother's influence will bud, 
blossom, and bear abundant fruit, while her own 



104 THE world's battle. 

life has long ceased on earth, and her hardy sons, 
in the vicissitudes of life, are fighting the World's 
Battle. 

Look into the prisons of our country, and be- 
hold the felon in his cell, and you will perchance 
find he lost his mother early, or her habits were 
dissipated, or she failed to exercise the influence 
that might have saved him-. Go into the haunts 
of infamy and vice, if your sense of shame and 
degradation will let you, and ask the painted 
misery you meet, how the first false step led to 
misery here, if not hereafter, and you will find it 
was for want of, or in neglect of, a mother's influ- 
ence. Why do vice, immorality, and crime 
abound ? Alas ! a mother neglects her duty, and 
then bad principles are sown broadcast ; and, in 
the first temptation, the seeds grow up with vast 
increase, and bear fruit unto death. Train up 
a child in the way he should go, and when he is 
old, he will not depart from it. I am persuaded 
if the mother does her duty to her boys and girls,- 
they will at least grow up good and virtuous 
members of the community, and in few instances, 
indeed, do discredit to the principles inculcated. 
A mother that neglects her duty will have much 
to answer for. One who performs it well de- 
serves the admiration of every lover of virtue. 

Much may depend on the father, much on the 



THE world's battle. 105 

instructor, much on associates ; but one rightly 
instructed by his mother will be guided by her 
precepts, love and cherish her memory, and think 
of her with fervent gratitude. The young lady, 
brought up under the care of a virtuous and 
judicious mother, will live, it may be, to impart 
the same influence to her children, and her influ- 
ence will extend to society. We have seen that 
a mother's influence is great. It has its reward 
often. She frequently rejoices in the fruits of 
her labor and self-denying toil. Not only do 
her children grow up to bless her, but, in what- 
ever station, she has strong claims on universal 
respect. This is the pride and boast, the stay 
and staff of the country. Our women are the 
admiration of the whole world. We say it with 
no flattery, no compliment, no partiality. The 
women of America are as pre-eminent for their 
virtue as distinguished for their beauty; and 
their praises are heard in the remotest corners 
of the habitable world. 



106 THE world's battle. 



CHAPTER XII. 

The varying Fashions of the month are seen 

In Godey's Lady's Book or Graham's Magazine, 

In Peterson's or Arthur's — all express 

The different patterns of a lady's dress, 

In which, more lovely still, will beauty shine, 

Or Fashion deck the votaries at her shrine. 

These, like to preachers, prove what Scriptures 

say, 
" The fashions of the world do pass away." 
And, like the Fashions, too, will all things pass, 
And not be found : for " all flesh is as grass." 
Whate'er the path we urge, in mid career 
Our course may stop : "nothing is certain here." 
Yet, in this course, uncertain as it is, 
We seem secure, and dream of earthly bliss, 
And The World's Battle diligently shun, 
Or fight like cowards when life's almost done. 
And thus, but half prepared, another state 
Alarms us, trembling on the brink of Fate. 
Too many fight who cast the shield away. 
Like him at Philippi, who confessing did say — 
"Parma" — the shield — "non bene relicta" — 
Was ill abandon'd on th' eventful day. 



THE world's battle. 107 

.'Tis here, like bold Fitz- James and Roderick 

Dhu, 
With scabbard off — " Then each his falchion 

drew'' — 
With the stern chief, in parting with his targe, 
It fared but ill : so with the world at large. 
The shield is Faith, which, held tenaciously, 
The combatant will never fear or flee. 
But, with the shield, he wants the helmet too — 
Salvation — on his head all bright and new. 
A breastplate, too, he greatly does require, 
'Tis Righteousness, He must not be a liar : 
Therefore his loins the fairest Truth must gird, 
With no prevarication in one word. 
To guard his feet, they must be fitly shod 
With Gospel preparation, peace with God. 
What wants he more beside *^ to fight the fight" 
Of Faith call'd "good," and grasp at endless 

life ? 
He wants for conquest the victorious sword 
By God's blest Spirit used— The Word of God, 
More keen and precious than the one he wore. 
That " king of men," with gold nails studded o'er. 
And thus arrayed in panoply divine, 
The Christian hero's weapons brilliant shine, 
More costly, more complete than poets sing, 
Clothed Thetis' son, or Ithaca's wise king. 



108 THE world's battle. 

Ye Pastors I whose it is God's flock to feed, 
If haply ye should chance my book to read, 
And find it not unsuited to the case 
Of precious souls — the wanderers from grace — 
Ask, and ye have more copies of the same, 
One, two, or three, or thousands as ye name ; 
But, if not useful, let oblivion be 
Its doom ; ^' and be the Spartan's epitaph on me — 
' Sparta hath many a worthier son than he.' " 
Physicians ! ye who mark the languid eye, 
And feel the fluttering pulse — Mortality 
Looks up to you, and scans your every look. 
And reads with anxious glance, as in a book, 
The furrowed lines your studious duty traces, 
Well marked upon your very serious faces, 
When Mors defies your skill, and all your art 
So noble, nought avails against his dart ; 
This book for you should somewhat suited be, 
As pointing out the path of Immortality. 
Ye Lawyers, Statesmen, Legislators all. 
And Judges of the land, this book will call— 
At least its subject will — and ask a minute 
From time so precious ; more if you begin it. 
Mysterious Public ! give my book a trial, 
And justly tell its time, as the sun on a dial ; 
And if you give applause, or don't complain, 
Perchance with stronger wing I'll flee to yoa 
again. 



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